


chambers

by trilliananders



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Major character death - Freeform, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliananders/pseuds/trilliananders
Summary: post-endgame. Steve Rogers has passed away from old age. The one remarkable thing is that no one knew his heart would be in the condition it was. He was able to save one more life. After receiving his heart, strange things start happening. Including something that would change your life forever. (Inspired by the Netflix series of the same name.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 143
Kudos: 285





	1. one

It was something they never expected to happen. Steve’s heart. Even though he had aged, lived a full life, and passed quietly, his heart was still in perfect fighting shape. The doctors assumed it had to be because of the serum, but they had no clue until it was time to part his body with the organ. He was an organ donor, he had to just pull one last stop before finally being put to rest. 

It was a girl, no a woman, Bucky thought, that received his heart. A young, beautiful woman, who sat across from him now. The tip of her scar peeking out from her thick knit v-neck sweater. Her fingers danced on the rim of the ceramic coffee cup in nervousness. His own hands fidgeted in his lap, waiting. 

“Alright, here we go.” Sam broke the silence, laying a cup of black coffee in front of his friend, a milky latte in front of the chair he would occupy and a small plate of pastries in the middle. He immediately grabbed a raspberry danish, Bucky watched the crumb trail Sam created taking the flaky pastry onto his napkin. Sam made eye contact with the woman across from them. “Thank you so much for meeting with us.” Bucky’s throat went dry. 

“It’s no problem really,” you swept the crumbs up and placed them in a balled up napkin to be disposed of later. “When they told me whose heart I received I….” You took a beat, bringing your hand closer to your chest, “I honestly expected to meet the two of you at some point.” 

“Figures the guy would have to do one last good deed before finally getting some damn rest.” Sam chuckled, his hand coming to pat Bucky on the back, gripping his shoulder reassuringly. You don’t have to talk, Sam had said, _I can do the talking for both of us._

_Only because you never shut up,_ Bucky had replied. He wore a tight smile now that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t blame you, he wasn’t upset that you were alive and his best friend wasn’t, he was just still sore from the funeral. They had laid eyes on her for the first time there, a year ago.

Bucky remembers how he felt when he saw you for the first time. The acid rolling in his gut that made him almost sick, the prickling tears in the corner of his eyes, the rock on his chest keeping him from taking a steady breath. You felt like you were an interloper for sure, sitting in a wheelchair towards the back as they lowered Steve’s body into the ground.

Your arms were wrapped around yourself, but if that was from the temperature or the uneasiness he wasn’t sure. A man was with you, a nurse? Your recovery was going to be long, but they deemed you well enough to leave the hospital for a few hours to attend the funeral of the man who saved your life.

And she deserves Steve’s heart. At least that’s what Sam was telling him. You were nothing remarkable, as far as Bucky knew. You were a bartender at some brewery in Philadelphia, dropped out of college when you couldn’t hack it, waited tables and now serves beer to hipsters and beer enthusiasts 6 days a week. You go to work, come home, rinse, repeat. You were boring. Did you deserve to get the heart of such a remarkable man? It’s was the odds. You were the next on the list, Steve was your blood type, they were a perfect match. 

Bucky didn’t want to be hateful, he really didn’t. But it was hard when the person sitting across from you wasn’t the person you wanted it to be. 

“I’m so thankful to even have this chance,” You started, “I didn’t think I would be alive for much longer.” Bucky felt her eyes on him. “I’m so sorry for your loss… both of you.” His metal hand clenched under the table, it’s not her fault. 

“It would have meant a lot to Steve that he got to save one more person’s life.” Sam was charming, that’s how Bucky used to be, he remembers. But not anymore. Sam was hurting just as badly as him, so why was this so easy for him? 

“So what are you going to do with your life now?” That came out harsher than intended, Bucky’s throat scratchy and dry. He took a sip of the now tepid black coffee, “Now that you have this second chance?” 

It was an accusation and you felt it, he knew you did. You knew you weren’t living before. But how do you justify Captain America giving his heart to you? How do you make it worth the sacrifice? You don’t.

“I…” He watched you withdraw from them, your back coming to rest against the chair. Hands still firmly grasped around the mug. There’s a tick there, Bucky noted, Steve used to do the same with his coffee mug. Her fingers rhythmically tapping against the side to the tune of a song Bucky could swear that he knew. 

“Buck lay off,” Sam nudged Bucky’s leg under the table. “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” there was that charming smile. Bucky leant back in his chair, watching the girl across from him shift uneasily, more of the scar was showing. He felt his own heart speed up in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” You started, “Believe me, I do not feel deserving of this at all.” You pulled both hands away from your coffee mug, wrapping them around yourself to make you feel more secure with what you are about to say. “I’ve rejected two hearts before this one, my—my body has rejected two hearts before this one, and I resigned to the fact that within the next two years I would be dead.” You swallowed harshly at that, bringing your eyes to connect with Bucky’s. They were red and brimmed with tears. “I will never be worthy of the heart of Captain America, and I will live with that fact for the rest of my life.

I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I never thought this far. I never thought about living, just surviving. Just seeing if I would wake up the next day and your friend gave me this gift that I never expected to receive.” Bucky felt his heart racing now, tears were falling from the woman’s cheeks, dripping onto her sweater. 

Sam nudged Bucky’s leg again, they exchanged a look. Sam motioning towards the crying woman across from them. Bucky sighed and leaned forward, placing his arms on the table, reaching across and gently grabbing your hand. It’s not her fault he left you. It’s also not her fault that you can’t let it go. 

“Steve would have wanted you to have it,” his own unshed tears in his eyes, “I know he would have, because I know Steve.” Her eyes once again met his, “My anger is not towards you, I’ve just misplaced it. He would be happy to know that he saved your life, I completely agree with Sam. And…” He looked back on his friend who was watching with ernest support. “We are both happy that you’ve gotten this gift, no matter what you do with it.” Your eyes were locked, tears rolling down both of your cheeks, and Bucky felt his heart swell.

Something changed across her features, eyes becoming vacant, rolling into the back of her head. “Y/N?” Sam stood from his chair. You were convulsing. “Buck call an ambulance.” 

How could you ever explain it? The memories started soon after the surgery. Memories that didn’t belong to you. A pretty brunette with cherry red lips and perfectly finger waved hair that made your heart flutter in her chest. A handsome young man with a sturdy jaw that formed immense love in your heart, a fondness you had never felt before. A guilt for leaving him. An equally handsome veteran with wings that liked to play cards and always had a comeback. You knew them. You felt the pain of the loss of the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist whom you had never met, but whenever they mentioned Iron Man on the news her heart would break. You could feel the emptiness in your heart for the clever red head that had your back even when you were fresh from the ice.

How do you explain to these friends, no, to them you’re a stranger. How do you explain to these strangers that with Steve’s heart, you also received his memories?

Your head was pounding. The hospital sheets weren’t your favorite. They were relentlessly scratchy. The hospital gown was no better. The memory that struck you in the coffee shop showed you a younger, more youthful Bucky Barnes. He sat across from her in a similar setting, holding your hand just as he did in that coffee shop. But it wasn’t your hand, it was Steve’s. You could feel the asthma in your chest, how hard it was to bring air into your lungs. Your frail bones shivering. It was the 40s, and Bucky was trying to comfort you. 

“I’m sorry Steve,” Bucky was so affectionate with how he talked to him, “I don’t get why these girls don’t see you the way I do. You’re the best of us.” It was heartbreak, another girl standing him up, another girl thinking he was weak and not worth their time. But that wasn’t new. So why did it still hurt this much? “You’re gonna give yourself pneumonia.” 

“I’m not!” You felt yourself say, only it wasn’t your voice. The hand that yanked itself out of Bucky’s grasp wasn’t your hand and the body that removed itself from the chair and stalked angrily out of the shop wasn’t your body. But it was. 

So many memories like this triggered by insignificant details of a life you never lived. 

Except now your living it. And you didn’t know how to stop it. 

You could breathe now, as the heart monitor beeped, you could feel how strong your bones are. You could easily take in air. You stretch your muscles out, feeling your back pop and you could feel how easily you moved. Pre-serum Steve never moved this well. The room was empty and you could see your clothes neatly folded on a chair in the corner of the room. Electrodes were taped to your chest, monitoring the strong heart you received a year ago now. You know your body wasn’t rejecting it, it would have by now. The memories just cause seizures and seizures tend to scare people. 

A soft knock came to the door, “Miss Y/L/N,” Your eyes met the female doctor in the doorway. “My name is Helen Cho. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine now, thank you.” You sat up further in the bed. The doctor examined her chart. 

“Have you been having many seizures since the surgery?” You clasped your hands together before lying, 

“No, I haven’t.” I’ve just been having visions about Captain America’s intimate, personal life. 

“Hmm,” Dr. Cho didn’t believe you, you could feel it, “Well your heart is still going strong, we gave you an MRI while you were under and we saw no issues. If this were to happen again I would advise you to come back to see me.” You nodded, trying to give the impression you were taking the doctor seriously. “I just have a couple forms for you to fill out and then you can be released.” 

“Thank you, Doctor.” Helen Cho gave her a tight smile before leaving the room. You fiddled your thumbs in bed. That’s a look you received often. A tight lipped smile. Like you’ve got Captain America’s heart after he abandoned his country to live with the love of his life and now you’re this insignificant human who really doesn’t deserve it. He became Captain America because of his heart you know? Metaphorically, but still. 

Undeserving. 

That’s what you’ve been your whole life, but it’s not something to unpack at the moment. Not when the two people you had a seizure in front of are standing in front of you. 

“You doin alright?” Sam gave you a warm smile, coming to sit on the end of the bed. Bucky remained back against the wall. 

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, I’m fine thank you.”

“You scared the shit outta us to be completely honest.” Sam laughed, “Bucky thought he killed you.”

“I didn’t.” Bucky protested, coming to stand at the end of the bed. 

“You did.” Sam was being funny, at Bucky’s expense. You smiled. 

“I’ll survive,” You told Bucky, “You didn’t kill me.” Even though the vivid memory of the fight on the helicarrier deck almost did. “Thank you both for taking care of me, bringing me here.”

“It’s nothing really,” Bucky spoke this time. His hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Just take care of that heart.” 

“Of course.” 

…

“Did you want anything for last call?” You wiped down the bar top, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear. 

“Nah, I’m good.” The woman spoke, her boyfriend agreeing. “We’ll take our check whenever.” You nodded and went over to the POS, printing the check and folding it in half before laying it on the bar top between the two,

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

It was a fairly busy night that dwindled down to just the one couple partially making out at the bar. You could see your manager sitting in a booth on one side of the restaurant finishing his paperwork on the laptop perched before him, your coworker, a girl named Sam was finishing up cleaning the beverage station near the service bar area. It was just the three of you left in the building. 

You were pleased with the money you made that day, your cash lined neatly up beside the register, a cool $600. You’ve never made that much in one night before. You figure you can pay a good amount on your medical bills this month. Maybe even get below the 100,000 mark. But you’re not going to get your hopes too far up yet. One good night often meant a terribly slow one was coming up. 

“Have a good night Y/N!” Sam slung her purse over her shoulder, keys in hand. 

“You too!” A beer was next to you, a little treat given to the bar closer at night while they finished up. You quickly chugged it, stuffed the $600 into your wallet and slid your wallet into your backpack, tightening the straps and clicking the buckle into place. Walking to your apartment at night never failed to give you a little bit of fright, but nothing bad has happened yet. You just wanted to be able to run if need be. “I’m heading out, did you need anything else from me?” You rested a hip against the side of the booth, your manager looking up from his computer to smile at her. 

“No, you’re all good. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“I’m off, but Thursday?” You started backing away towards the door.

“See you then!” With a wave you were out the door and making your quick 4 block walk to your apartment. The streets of Philly, usually bustling with the noise of people bar hopping was eerily quiet. It’s a Tuesday night, you figure. But it happens a block from your home, you’re almost there when your heart begins to race. It’s almost like you can sense it and something else takes over entirely. The hand that tries to yank you into the alley is easily broken. The two other men that approach you get a firm kick to the chest that sends one into the brick wall 5 feet away and the other sprawled out in the street. The third man with one broken hand returns, pulling a gun on you. And almost out of instinct, one you didn’t know you had, you quickly grabbed the metal trash can lid to your right and flung it at him, the lid rotating like a frisbee through the air and hitting the man with the gun, flinging him back across the sidewalk, gun sliding out of reach. 

“Did you see that?” Clint breathed. He looked at the others in the room, the steady footage from the Stark drone paused on the screen. The girl paused, face in disbelief, staring down at her hands. She was unharmed. Unharmed against three trained agents. 

“I told you I felt like something was off,” Wanda said, “When you brought her here to be treated by Cho, it was almost like feeling Steve being here…. her brain waves.” Wanda looked around the room to the rest of her team. “Something happened when she got that heart.” Bucky abruptly stood up from his chair and stalked out of the room. 

“I’ll deal with him,” Sam said, standing as well, “We gotta bring her in to see what’s really going on.” 

“It’s almost like she’s having muscle memory, but Steve’s muscle memory.” Bruce placed his hands on the table before him, “How soon can we bring her in?” 

“We can’t just kidnap her,” Carol started, “One of us needs to go talk to her and get her to come here willingly.” She looked to Sam. “If she has a connection to Steve it needs to be one of you.” Sam nodded. 

“I’ll talk to Bucky and see what he thinks, we’ve met up with her before, we’ll get her here.” He exited the room, walking down the hallway and up through the roof access door where he knows Bucky will be sitting on the folding chairs they had placed up there months ago. 

“She’s not Steve.” He said, his back still to Sam, looking out over the lake. 

“She never will be,” Sam walked towards him, sighing and letting himself fall into the chair next to Bucky. “But she’s probably scared, and things are happening to her that she doesn’t understand and we can help her.” Bucky nodded, fists clenched, elbows resting on his knees. 

“You’re right.” Bucky gave him a tight smile, “You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Sam laughed, smacking a hand on the Bucky’s back. Bucky rolled his eyes, still looking out onto the horizon. 

“So what does Wanda think?”

“She… doesn’t know.” Sam looked at his friend, Bucky was so lost when Steve left, even though he learned they had discussed it the night before. Bucky told him to go. Bucky also told him to give the shield to Sam, which was something that still didn’t feel right. “His heart was the reason he became Cap, metaphorically or not, the serum could have done things we have no clue about.” Bucky nodded in agreement. 

“So the seizure….?”

“A side effect?” Sam offered. “Maybe?” 

“A side effect.” 

…

_“I wish it was like this everyday.” His face was young and so full of life, full of hope for the future. His eyes weren’t as empty and cold as they are now. They were sitting on the edge of a dock, the salty waves crashing against the jetty nearby. Bucky got off work early, Steve surprised him with a lunch his Ma packed for the two to share. Bucky was still in his navy jumpsuit. His uniform for the canary. His name stitched into the left breast. The tuna salad sandwiches almost seemed too much._

_“What? Cloudy and miserable?” Steve joked, taking a bite from his sandwich. Bucky laughed with a mouth full of food before speaking._

_“Just you and me, hanging out, like when we were kids.” Steve felt affection well up in his chest. Bucky was his best friend. The only person other than his own mother who saw him for who he was instead of some sick brat that should have died a while ago. Steve made a sound of agreement. “I think Dot is the one.”_

_Steve scoffed, “You said that about Millie last week.”_

_“Yeah, but I mean it this time.” Bucky bumped his shoulder against Steve, who rolled his eyes and replied,_

_“Yeah you said that too.”_

You could still feel the salty air when you awoke in your bed. The taste of canned tuna in your mouth as you stumbled into the bathroom to immediately brush your teeth. You hated canned tuna, and as your eyes met your own in the mirror for just a moment Steve Rogers looked back at you, before disappearing altogether. A car horn was blaring outside, a couple was fighting a few doors down, and the kid next door wouldn’t stop screaming. It was home. 

Once the laundry was done, the take out containers from work that littered almost every surface in your kitchen were tossed, and the floors were mopped, you collapsed on your couch, beer in hand watching what was left of the episode of Masterchef Junior that you had put on as background noise. How a kid who hasn’t even hit puberty yet knew how to perfectly sear a rack of lamb and make sauces you didn’t even know existed was beyond you. 

A knock at the door made you jump. No one ever came to your door. You didn’t invite people over, and everyone in the apartment building minded their own business. So you were surprised when so glanced through the peephole to see two Avengers standing on the other side. You took a quick glance down at yourself. Old Navy sweatpants from 2006 that had seen better days and a t shirt that was threadbare but at least it didn’t have any stains. You quickly slid the chain off the door, unlocked it, and opened to face the two men she had last seen three months ago in New York. 

“Hi,” You switched the beer bottle from one hand to the other. Sam Wilson gave you a warm smile. 

“Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright,” You glanced towards Bucky. “What are you guys doing here?” Sam opened his mouth to speak but Bucky cut him off, 

“Can we come in?” Your face flushed.

“Yeah, shit, yeah,” you stepped to the side, “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright. Just checking in.” Your apartment was small, you knew. And what you remembered from the compound when you were there getting checked out by Helen Cho was that their respective bedrooms on the compound were as big as her whole apartment. 

“Did you want a drink?” The two men stood awkwardly in the small space. “I have beer…” You opened the fridge and looked inside. “Or water.” 

“Water is fine.” Bucky took a seat in the recliner, Sam opting to sit in the space you had previously occupied on the couch. 

“So just checking in?” You asked, giving them both their glasses of water, taking a seat next to Sam. 

“Has anything strange happened to you lately?” Bucky asked, making direct eye contact with you as he took a large mouthful of water. You felt a chill run down your spine. 

“Strange?” 

“Yeah,” Sam started, “Have you run into any problems with the heart, any side effects? They’re still unsure with the serum if anything was going to happen and since the seizure we just wanted to make sure nothing else has been happening.” They know, they know and they’re just asking you to see if you’re going to lie. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” You lied anyway. Bucky’s jaw clenched and he nodded, sitting back in his chair, pulling his phone from his pocket. A few taps on the screen and then he flipped it around, playing the video. 

You felt your heart skip in your chest as you watched yourself fend off three grown men in the span of ten seconds, easily, and without taking a single hit on yourself. 

“So you’ve had combat training?” Bucky’s tone was accusational. 

“I have no idea how…” You pulled away from the group, going to throw your now empty beer in the recycling, grabbing a fresh one from the fridge, “I have no idea how I knew to do any of that.” You took a long pull from her beer. 

“You gotta be honest with us,” Sam stood from the couch to approach her, “We can help you.” You shake your head, turning away and taking another long pull from your beer. 

“You’ll think I’m crazy.” Bucky scoffed in the background. “It’s not…” You felt tears well up in your eyes. “It’s not normal.”

“Nothing we do would be considered normal,” Bucky joined Sam and you in the small kitchen, “We just want to help.” You nodded, staring down at your beer bottle. 

“I can see his memories,” You began, “Not just see them…. it’s almost like…” You placed the bottle on the counter, wrapping your arms around yourself, “It’s almost like I’m living them.” Sam placed his glass on the counter, 

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“I—I can taste what he’s eating or I can feel sensation with what he’s doing, his emotions at the time. If it’s a fight I can feel every hit he takes it’s just—it’s insane.” Your whole body was shaking as you tried to hold back your tears. 

“How long has this been happening?” Sam’s voice was concerned. 

_“How long has this been happening?” Sam’s voice was concerned. Steve sat in a metal folding chair, a circle of other people to his left and right. The VA._

_“A few months,” the guy across from him continued, “Ever since my wife left me, I’ve been having worse and worse nightmares. I think it’s the waking up alone…” He wrung his hands in his lap. Steve’s heart broke for him. A war vet who struggled with his mental illness and it eventually dissolved his marriage, now he was alone dealing with it._

_“Have you thought about getting a dog?” A woman in the group offered, “I got a rescue from the shelter, training him has helped me a lot with my loneliness and honestly I wouldn’t leave my apartment most days if I didn’t have to take him for a walk.”_

_“Maybe,” The guy shrugged, “I don’t know if I can handle that type of responsibility right now.”_

_“It’s something to think about,” Sam said, “A hobby even to get your mind on something productive, taking care of an animal could give you purpose, knowing something is relying on you.” Steve loved coming to the VA. It was the only time he really got to be himself, just another war veteran, just like everyone else in this room. They didn’t look at him like he was Captain America. A hero. He was just Steve. He was allowed to be vulnerable here._

_“The love of my life just passed away,” He said, “Before I went into the ice, I thought we would be together you know? Kids, white picket fence, the whole nine. But I woke up seventy years too late for that, she lived her whole life without me, and now she’s gone.” The group nodded murmurs of apologies. His chest felt tight, Sam leant back in his chair. “But we’ve gotta move on right?” Steve gave a tight smile. “We gotta move on.”_

_The coffee here wasn’t great, but it was doable. Sam approached him as he sipped on his black coffee out of a comically small styrofoam cup. “I’m proud of you for talking about her man,” Sam clapped him on the shoulder, “I know it’s hard.” Steve nodded in agreement. “We just gotta keep talking about her, you’re never gonna stop loving her, but we can at least make it less sore to talk about.”_

_“You’re right,” Steve gave him a watery smile, “you’re right.”_

_“I’m always right.”_

You came to consciousness almost immediately after you went under, sitting on the floor of your kitchen the two Avengers crouched around you, concerned. “I’m fine.” You say. Your eyes still watery with the grief and anger she was just feeling. “It’s okay.”

“Sure as hell doesn’t look like you’re okay,” Bucky started, “You need—“

“She’s fine Buck,” Sam nudges his partner, turning his attention back to you, “What did you just see?” 

You feel the grief in your chest. Like Peggy was the love of your life and she just died. The anger of going into the ice and coming out seventy years later having missed what you assumed was your only chance of having a normal life. But it wasn’t yours. It was Steve’s, how do you explain that?

“You need to come back to the compound with us so they can run a couple tests,” Sam helped you from the floor. You adamantly shake your head. 

“I can’t, I have to work.” 

“Work can wait—“

“No… work can’t wait.” You scoffed, “Not all of us live for free.” You began cleaning up their mess, emptying their water cups in the sink and wiping the ring marks off the counter. 

“Y/N,” Sam took your hands in his own, “We don’t know what these seizures are doing to you, nor what other side effects you might be having because of Steve’s heart. You need to get these tests done.” 

“How about next week?” Bucky offered, “Your next day off? We can bring you to the compound and we can do a couple tests, bring you right home.” The two Avengers looked at you expectantly and you reluctantly nodded. 

“Sure,” You leant back against the counter, “Only on my day off, and if I’m back in time for work the next day.” 

Once both men were gone from your apartment, you lost all motivation to continue on with anything else. Instead opting to crawl into your bed midday and stare at the crack in your apartment wall. What was happening to you? That thing in the alley scared you shitless and luckily seizures haven’t happened at work, but eventually they probably will. The fear of being tested and finding something profoundly wrong with you was also too hard to ignore. There was no real good solution to the way you were feeling right now, so you did the only thing you knew to do to escape. 

You slept.

You can deal with those problems tomorrow.


	2. two

_Frequent colds, high blood pressure, heart palpitations, asthma, anxiety, prior suffering of scarlet fever and rheumatic fever, and a family history of stroke, diabetes, cancer, and heart disease. Thanks Dad._

_The enlistment office was cold. The plastic chair they had him in was sticking against the backs of his thin thighs. You’ve never been this thin in your entire life. Your breathing–Steve’s breathing–was fine for now, but you could feel a rattling beginning in your chest. Just trying to get through this enlistment examination and then we can go home, light a fire, and eat the last tin of beans._

_“Rogers.” The man examined you, took a deep sigh and stamped your papers. 4F. Denied._

This was the first one, in Brooklyn. The war has just started. Steve was trying to jump into the wagon early, trying against all odds to get his feet on the ground overseas. Do what he can, just like Dad did in the War to End All Wars. It’s too bad the war didn’t live up to its name. These memories came to you as you sat in a similar situation.

You were in grey shorts and a matching t shirt, Avengers logo in black on each in a lab, waiting for the man you had an appointment with. You jokingly thought to yourself about what it would have been like to fight in a war, lay your life on the line for a good noble cause, and you had to remind yourself that you truly hoped those memories never came to surface. 

You swallowed roughly, shifting on the sterile paper beneath you, waiting. There was a two way mirror here, you remembered. As you looked at it you wondered who would be watching on the other side. Coming to see the freak who possesses the heart of Captain America. You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky yet, thank god. Two hours ago a car showed up in front of your building and brought you to a jet bringing you to the compound, no sign of the super soldier or his winged friend in sight. You supposed you couldn’t blame them. This is a really strange situation to say the least. 

It also didn’t hurt that you knew them in a severely intimate way whereas you were a complete stranger to them. It was also strange that you missed them, terribly. Your heart ached for them. Steve’s heart ached for them. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” Two people entered the room, Bruce and Wanda. Your heart ached a little more. It was almost like reuniting with an old friend, you wonder if things will be the same, pick up right where you left off, the closeness you felt. But that’s Steve talking, not you. “I’m Bruce Banner and this is Wanda Maximoff,” the gentle giant offered with a soft smile, “but I’m sure you already knew that.” 

“It’s so strange,” You expressed, “Feeling like I know all of you so well, but being a complete stranger.” You laughed nervously and wrapped your arms around your middle, swinging your feet slightly as they hung off the edge of the examining table. 

“I couldn’t imagine honestly,” Bruce moved closest to you, Wanda opting to stay by the door. “Okay so first I’m going to take some blood if that’s okay with you?” He pulled a tray out from a medical drawer, setting it up beside you. 

“Of course,” You smiled softly. The trust in Bruce was intense. You knew Steve fought beside him. You have distinct memories from the Battle of New York, but more than that the nights of eating take out at the kitchen counter and listening to him babble about isolating samples of Caps blood to synthesize cures for disease, but also how he couldn’t imagine creating a world of super soldiers so the idea was nixed as soon as he spat it out. Bruce Banner had a good moral compass. He can be trusted. 

He quickly worked, wrapping a medical tourniquet onto your arm and finding a vein, filling six vials of blood. He bandaged you and removed the tourniquet just as quickly. 

“So you have these flashbacks right?” Bruce asked as he labeled the vials, “You have seizures during?”

“Not always, but it always involves some sort of passing out.” He nods, scribbling notes on his notepad. 

“And the agents in the alley?”

“No clue,” You admitted honestly. “My body,” Looking down at your hands, “It moved on its own, I had no control.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay, well today is going to be strictly medical, but I would like to talk to you about some of the tests we would like to run, if you consent to them.” It was hard. The decision seemed so easy. Let them test so that you can figure out what the hell is going on and hopefully put a stop to it, but also you’d been poked and prodded your whole life. 

You were born with the heart condition. You’ve literally been having surgeries since the day you were born. What if it never ends? What if they never find out why you and Steve are so connected? What if they do and you can’t keep the heart? 

“Whatever outcome, we will not put your life at risk.” This was the first time Wanda has spoken during this entire visit. Your eyes flicked over to hers. A maternal instinct bloomed in your chest. Steve had a fond love for her, when she was parted from Ultron and her brother died she had leaned hard into Clint, but when Clint retired, Steve took his place. Making sure she was okay, making sure she practiced wielding her powers, making sure she ate everyday. That same affection could be found in you now, your eyes teared at the thought. “We will figure this out and keep you alive, even if it means getting you a new heart.” 

It was what you needed to hear and she knew it. Part of her powers, but also she knew you would trust her. You nodded your head, looking back to Bruce. “Let’s do it.” 

_You knew this memory. You HATED this memory._

_Bucky Barnes. The handsome, charismatic, Bucky Barnes. James the dames would sigh as he nibbled their ears. He was screaming and there was nothing you could do to stop it. These videos you were obsessed with looking for clues. Where would he go? How could you find him? Sam was looking, but every day that Bucky was gone was a day his trail grew colder and colder._

_He was strapped into a metal chair, skin damp, ice still trapped in his hair. They had just woken him up, strapping him into the chair, electrodes coming to lay over his face and he fucking screamed. It was horrifying, why were you torturing yourself like this. You should have gone back to that ravine and retrieved his body. You weren’t even sure where he fell, but you should have searched that whole fucking mountain to find him. He would have for you._

_You let him down._

_You fucking let him down._

A gasp and you were awake. Damp with sweat you swung your legs over the side of your bed, panting. The guilt. So consuming. Your stomach churned and you quickly found your way to the bathroom, dropping to your knees in order to wretch into the toilet. Body shivering from the cold. You placed a hand over your now racing heart, crying against the porcelain. You missed Bucky.

You didn’t even know Bucky. 

Your heart was aching for him. Fuck. It had been a week since your initial visit with Bruce other than taking your blood and giving you a normal checkup not much else was done. He wanted to go easy on you, give you a little time to adjust and come to terms with your newfound anomaly. And for whatever reason right now you really wanted to run. Like… for stress relief. When has that thought ever crossed your mind? Who even were you? 

Oh right, Steve was a runner. You could remember him lapping Sam Wilson on multiple occasions as they took their morning runs together. Your body burned with energy and you checked the time, it was 5 am. You had closed the bar last night and didn’t get home until one. 

“Four hours of sleep.” You groaned. “Fucking great.” This itch wouldn’t give up so you dusted off your old gym shoes and strapped yourself into a sports bra, jacket, and sweats and you were out the door. 

Running. At 5 am. Who would have fucking thought. 

Old City was close, and you found yourself finding it. Not many cars out this early, but they’d grow in number to gridlock during rush hour. As you pounded the pavement, passing building after building, block after block you found yourself not even close to being out of breath, the energy not even close to being diminished. If you couldn’t get rid of this massive rush of energy you had been feeling then a mid morning nap was out of the question, and you had to be back at work at four. 

You picked up the pace, passing Independence Hall, running the museum mile, before running back towards the direction of your apartment. You were flying. You’ve never run so fast in your life. You were running faster than the cars were driving on the still mildly empty streets. This was wild. 

You weren’t a runner, but Steve Rogers was. It was almost like in the alley, where your body just sorta went and your brain followed. It was Steve’s body right now, you were just along for the ride. 

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked up the steps, adrenaline wearing off. You just barely made it inside your door before you collapsed on the ground in extreme pain. It felt like you tore every muscle in your legs, you let out a silent scream trying not to wake your neighbors, fumbling for your phone. You couldn’t move your legs. 

So you did the only thing you knew to do, you called Bruce. 

Since Steve’s death Bucky Barnes liked doing one thing and one thing only. Staying busy. Anything that crossed Fury’s desk, big or small, he wanted it and he would fight every other agent in the compound in order to get it. You need some simple recon on a businessman you think might have connections to old Hydra sympathizers? He’s on it. You need someone to go in a diffuse a bomb? He’s on it. You need someone to come get your cat out of a tree, please stop him on the side of the road. He’s begging you. 

It hurt bad enough when Steve said he was going to stay with Peggy. He resigned to the fact that his very selfless friend deserves to do a very selfish thing. He wanted Steve to be happy, and when you love someone you’ll let them be happy no matter the personal cost. But when Steve returned as an old man, and he had to physically watch him waste and die. That was probably something he could never forgive Steve for. He just couldn’t.

The coffee in his cup was basically water. The cheap motel Sam got them a room in was a fucking joke. Two single beds, a coffee maker from the 70s, and he didn’t even want to think about what was embedded in the shag carpet. Shit thing was they were leaving today, mission was over, recon was successful, information on a new budding cartel trafficking humans overseas was obtained. Procedure had them going back to report to Fury, getting a stat on how many people they should bring and what approach and then they’ll be back on the field. 

He can’t wait. 

Sam threw the now full duffel on the floor by the front door, turning to his friend. “I need a fucking break Bucky.” He groaned, stretching out his back. Bucky scoffed, 

“Then take a fucking break Sam.” He finished off his coffee, tossing the cup in the trash and picking up his own duffel. Sam looked at him wearily. 

“You need a break too.” Sam told Bucky as they left the motel room. The small plane they had taken over here sat for them 2 km into the woods behind this dingy motel, and that’s where they were headed, ready to take a quick flight home. 

“I don’t need a break,” Bucky protested, “I know when I need to take a break.” 

Sam looked at Bucky incredulously, “You literally got stabbed last week and hours later went back out on another mission. You’re taking a break.” Two duffels thrown into chairs on the plane, Bucky sitting himself in the pilot’s seat. A red, silver, and blue shield sat between them as Sam took his own seat in copilot. 

“I don’t need a break, not yet.” Sam rolled his eyes, beginning take off procedure. 

“You’re gonna have to deal with it sometime my man.” Bucky rolled his eyes at that, “Holding things in-”

“Don’t go all VA on me right now birdbrain.” Sam stared at Bucky a moment longer, trying to pick his next words out carefully. 

“Buck-” Saved by the bell. A phone ringing in Sam’s pocket. He pulled the cell out looking at Bruce’s name flashing across the screen. “Bruce? What’s-” Bucky stared him down, heart jumping at the prospect of flying somewhere else, anywhere but home. Sam quickly hung up, buckling his seat belt. “We gotta go to Philly, pick Y/N up.” Bucky’s heart dropped. He didn’t want that. 

“You’ve torn every muscle in your legs.” Bruce plainly stated. You were currently in the cradle created by Helen Cho. “Just by running?” Your mouth opened and quickly shut again, shrugging. 

“Fast, I was running so fast.” Your eyes scanned the ceiling as you felt the machine slowly repairing the muscles of your legs. Bucky Barnes scoffed beside you, grunting when Sam elbowed him in his ribs. 

“Like-”

“Like….,” You looked over to Sam and Bucky before turning your eyes back to Bruce, “Steve fast.” Bruce stared at you a moment before looking away. He walked over to the large glass windows on the opposite side of the room. Not speaking. Thinking. 

“How is that possible? Muscle memory sure, but your body shouldn’t be able to move that way. Steve’s top speed is 60 mph.” You looked at him wide eyed. 

“Maybe that’s why her legs are shredded.” Bucky said with some humor. He was being a dick. Why was he being a dick? Sam glared at him. 

“Go file the report Buck, I’ll catch you up later.” Bucky turned to his friend with a glare, 

“Why do I have to-”

“I’ll catch you up later.” He said sternly. Bucky called it his Captain’s voice. Like the one Steve would use when he knew something you didn’t and you just needed to follow him. Into battle or just to leave the room. Bucky acquiesced, but not before casting one more glance at you in the cradle, hands clasped over your belly, looking at him with wet eyes. 

“So your body has this muscle memory of the activities Steve used to do,” Bruce began to pace. “Running and fighting-”

“Steve was really good at art too.” Sam offered. He took a seat in a chair by Bruce’s pacing, between you and the green giant. “That would be a safe activity to see if you’d be just as good.” You nodded in agreement. 

“But for the more dangerous activities, your mind seems to think you’re able to do them. So the real issue are instances like this, where your mind goes and your body follows no matter the cost.” Bruce was looking at you now, thinking about how to proceed next. 

“And this is a pretty high cost.” You said. Both men agreed.

…

The report was on Fury’s desk an hour later. Bucky’s hands gripping the leather chair across from him as his eye scanned the pages. “So what’s next?” Bucky asked. Like an addict asking for a fix. Fury studied him for a moment. “I can be ready to go back in with a task force in four hours, quick nap, time to clean my guns-”

“You’re suspended from missions until further notice.” Fury threw the folder onto his desk, waiting for the backlash. 

“What?” Bucky’s heart started racing. Fucking Sam. 

“Sam recommended it, but I was already going to suspend you until you can get your head on straight. I just needed a second person to sign off.” Bucky studied him for a moment. Trying to detect the lie. 

“I’m fine, I need to be back out on the field.” Bucky gestured to the window behind him where recruits were running drills. “Who else are you going to use?” 

“We have agents other than you Barnes.” He sounds tired, “You haven’t been out of the field since Steve died and we have an issue that came up that I know you don’t want anything to do with. It’s not good for you.” 

“So this is about her?” Bucky thought back to your wet eyes, he felt guilty for being such an ass. It just sorta came out without thinking. He had a hard time doing that when he was in front of you, thinking. 

When they went to pick you up, Sam hadn’t given him any warning in what they were about to walk into. They found you where you had fallen, sobbing in pain, body going into shock. He felt himself stunned. Your legs were black and blue, every inch of skin bruised. Sam yelled something at him he couldn’t hear and he watched Sam pick you up from the floor, clearly hearing the whimpering of pain you were steadily released from your body. 

His heart fell to the floor as your half lidded eyes met his, unfocused. 

It was terrifying. At first he felt some anger well up, who had done this to you? How did this happen? But when it was revealed that you had done it to yourself, that your muddled mind and heart caused you to run 60 mph into complete muscle destruction he found himself angry at you. It’s not her fault, he tried to remind himself, how could it be her fault?

He found himself, not for the first time, angry with Steve. It left him confused and broken. Steve on his deathbed. In a hospital, doctors ready to take his heart as soon as he took his last breath. It was planned. Steve had been in the hospital for a month before he died, no one knew why he was getting EKG’s almost daily and why he was moved so closely to the operating wing. He didn’t tell anyone. He was leaving his heart to her. Without even knowing her. What a good fucking guy. Bucky hated him for it. Barely getting to mourn before they carted him out into the OR to cut him open and shift his bloody, healthy heart into a woman who had a weak and dying one. 

It was hard. This was hard. 

“This is about you Barnes.” Fury leaned over his desk, folding his hands in front of him. “You continue doing this and you’ll be liable for a mistake. We can’t afford mistakes. Not when we are finally gaining ground back. You’re suspended from field work effective immediately, if you want to make yourself useful around here train some recruits, organize some files, or maybe help Bruce in the lab. His hands are pretty full.” With that he was dismissed. Fists meeting a punching bag not soon after. 

“What am I going to do?” You cried softly. “I can’t keep my job if I have to take a month off.” Bruce looked up at her from his microscope, the cradle still working on the muscles in her legs. 

“You’re on your feet for 12 hours a day,” Bruce explained, “You’re basically getting a new pair of legs right now, you’re gonna have to take it easy for a while.” 

“I’m sure we can pick up your bills.” Sam offered, “If that’s what you’re worried about.” You shake your head, hands coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“I won’t have a job to go back to,” You explained, “They’ll replace me.” Sam sighed and put down the Sudoku book he had been working on. 

“I’m saying this because it’s what Steve would have wanted Y/N.” He looked at you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. “We will do whatever it takes to make sure you are taken care of.” You knew Sam was a good guy. You knew he worked at the VA not because he needed the money but because he genuinely cared about the people there. And you knew he helped Steve when the whole world was against him. Twice. 

“I don’t want you to feel-” you started, being cut off by Bruce,

“This is not an obligation. We want to help you, all of us do.” Bruce offered, “Not just because it’s what Steve would have wanted but also because this is a terrifying situation and we want you to be able to live a long, healthy life with or without these life altering issues.” He stood from his chair, bringing papers over and adjusting his glasses. “You’ll need to rest. For a while. I’m still examining your blood and tomorrow I’d like to get a look at your heart for myself, would that be okay?” 

You sighed heavily before replying, “Yeah, that would be okay.” 

Your legs were still sore, even after spending 12 hours in the cradle. You weren’t able to walk yet. Wanda was kind enough to help you use the restroom and helped you into the room they were going to have you staying in temporarily. “Do you want to make a list of items and their locations in your apartment you’d like me to bring here?” She asked. 

“Am I not going home?” She turned to look at you like she was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. 

“Well…” She had given you half chicken, 2 sweet potatoes, and a bowl broccoli with a large pat of butter. Bruce said you needed nutrients and a lot of them. “We can’t risk you doing something to your body that we won’t be able to repair. Just until the testing is done. I’m sorry.” She played with the ends of her hair. “I thought they already told you. I’m sure they’re going to ask you tomorrow.” You sighed, rubbing the scar on your chest gently before looking up at Wanda.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You were starving. “I understand.” She gave you a soft look you couldn’t really read before turning the tv on, working with you to find something to watch as you ate your dinner. You were the hungriest you’d ever been in your life. While in the cradle you were given snacks, but it was hard to eat completely laying down. The work your body was put through by the cradle repairing your muscles caused a major calorie deficit, and the fatigue you’ve been feeling all day was the price you’d been paying. 

You almost choked halfway through eating, looking up from your plate to the television screen and seeing Steve Rogers staring back at you. He looked so real, the young Captain America, the person he was before the battle for the infinity stones. The Steve Rogers he was on every poster and war movie. What is happening?

Wanda’s hand began to pat your back as you tried to clear your airways, “Breathe, c’mon breathe.”

_“Breathe, c’mon breathe.” Bucky’s hand was hard against your back, you couldn’t get air. “C’mon pal, that’s it.” It was a wet feeling in your throat, coughing the large wad of mucus into the handkerchief held in Bucky’s palm. Gasping for breath Bucky was quick to toss the soiled napkin to the side, bringing your peppermint oil up to your mouth, thin weak hands coming up to grasp it as you inhaled the icy oil, feeling your lungs expand and relax. “You okay?”_

_You could feel a rattle still in your chest. “Yeah I’m fine.” Steve was sick, which wasn’t anything new. You could feel the embarrassment._

_“I hate you being here alone.” Bucky stood from his chair next to the bed, getting up to turn the radio down a few decibels. “You could come move in with us? Ma loves you.” You could feel yourself shake your head._

_“I’ve lived in this apartment my whole life Buck.”_

_“Then I’ll move in here! You can move into your Ma’s room and I’ll take your old room Stevie.” You sighed, resting your back against the pillows Bucky had so carefully propped against your back. “You won’t be able to afford this place forever doing sketches for funnies. You’ve barely got any food in the icebox.”_

_“If you want to move in here Buck I’m not against it, but I’m staying right where I am.” Bucky nodded, hands on his hips turning to face his frail friend._

_“I make enough money at the canary that we should be just fine here Stevie.” This was a year before Bucky was sent off for war. A year and a half before Steve became Captain America. You wondered if either of them could sense what was coming._

The piece of chicken that had been lodged in your throat was soon popped out and floated midair with a red energy surrounding it. Wanda had pulled it from your throat. Steve was gone. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, worry evident in her voice. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, losing your appetite. “I think I should go to bed.” You pushed the tray away from you and leaned back against your pillows. In that moment you could feel the Steve. Like a layer on top of your own body. His frail one, shivering with a chill he couldn’t shake, lungs rattling, weak. 

“If you need anything at all just alert FRIDAY.” You nodded, ignoring her worried eyes as she left the room. You needed to sleep.

You were exhausted and this day felt three days long. You just needed to sleep. So far away from everything that was going on here. And you were praying against all odds that Steve wouldn’t follow you there either. 

Those prayers went unanswered.


	3. three

_“Steve?” Your body turned to look for Bucky, your name passing his lips with indiscernible expression. You watched him step forward, gun falling from his hand to the ground, staring straight at you as he slowly fell and disintegrated in front of you. What the fuck is happening?_

_Eyes moving across the battlefield you watched as the air began to fill with dust, your lungs being choked with it. You looked down to where Bucky was, a thick layer of ash on the ground. Kneeling by the soft dirt you dipped your fingers into it. Is this real? The black char on your fingertips told you it was._

_Anguish. Is that how you describe this feeling? Steve couldn’t put his finger on it. You fell on your ass, looking around in defeat. This feels like a darkness never felt before, it was like when Bucky fell from that train 70 years ago. But so much worse._

_We lost. We fucking lost. And we lost everything._

Your legs were still sore in the morning and now you were crying. You wanted to see Bucky. You wanted to see him so fucking bad, but that would be extremely weird and the guy hated you, maybe, probably, possibly… so it was a no go. He’s safe. You remind yourself. He’s here. Steve brought him back. Steve helped bring everyone back. It’s okay.

_It’s okay._

But your legs still hurt like hell and they were super stiff. You lay there in bed for a while, sun barely poking over the horizon, staring at the ceiling. The clock on your end table said 5 am which means you slept for 10 hours, but it didn’t feel like sleep at all. Not when your nightmares consisted of losing the person this heart loved the most. 

Despite the fact that this heart left that person for Peggy Carter. 

It was strange. How this heart yearned for Bucky. You had all of these feelings already formed, this love, admiration, loyalty. So why did Steve leave? Your heart ached a bit for Peggy, sure. But now you have a lifetime of memories with her. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be cooking dinner and feel the phantom arms of Peggy wrap around your waist, pressing a kiss to your spine. Early morning laziness that resulted in an x-rated bit that left you panting and empty. It wasn’t real to you, but Steve felt enough emotion for the both of you. 

But Bucky, christ, Bucky made your heart race. You couldn’t tell if it was your body’s reaction mixing with Steve’s or just yours, or just Steve’s. Bucky was handsome. You weren’t blind. But this was confusing and hurtful and you didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

You had to pee. 

That’s what we need to take care of right now. You shifted your legs over, releasing a low whine in your throat. Fuck they still hurt. “New muscle,” Bruce said, “You’re gonna be like a newborn calf.” You breathed in and out quickly, wiggling your toes against the pain. It almost felt like when you push on a bruise, but like five times worse. 

“FRIDAY?” You rasped, using your arms to prop yourself up, dragging your hips back. 

“Yes Y/N?” It was weird. Disembodied voice. Kind of like Alexa but in surround sound. 

“Could you…” What if Wanda was asleep? Fuck. “Is anyone awake right now?” 

“The only person awake in your orbit is Sergeant Barnes.” Of course. Fucking of course. Just wake Wanda up. Just wake Wanda up. “Would you like me to notify him of your current distress?” 

“No, no, no.” Your bladder was so full. Shit. You should just wake Wanda up, but Bucky, you wanted to see him. Steve’s heart wanted to see him. “If he’s not busy… please.” You whimpered as one of your muscles began to cramp. 

Bucky couldn’t sleep. Some nights he got a full eight hours and others…. If he could have forced himself asleep he would have. Benched. And for what? So less adapt agents can go out and make the same mistakes he should be making right now? Benched. It was bullshit. At least that’s what he was thinking as he sat on his sofa watching the morning news and eating his third bowl of oatmeal. Fresh from a long workout he had hoped he would tire enough to at least take a nap. 

“Sergeant Barnes.” FRIDAY spoke, making him jump in his seat. Never will he ever be used to that. Ever. “Miss Y/N requires your assistance in her private rooms.” For what? Bucky’s face quickly flushed. She asked for him? Why? FRIDAY continued, seemingly taking note of his confusion. “As the rest of the compound is asleep, Miss Y/N has asked for your assistance in her private rooms.” Oh. 

Didn’t matter anyway. He hadn’t talked to her since he’d acted like an ass in the lab. Sam railed on him for that. _Poor girl’s laying there with broken legs and you’re poking fun at it?_ Trying to make light of it more like. Just in the wrong way apparently. He stood from his sofa, exiting his room and walking to the hall on the opposite side of the common rooms where the guest bedrooms were. Her door was unlocked for him when he arrived and he found her much like he did yesterday, tears in her eyes, whimpering in pain, but with legs less bruised. Less internal bleeding. His heart broke a bit. He’s such an ass. 

“Hey.” Your voice was thick with tears. “Uhm…. this is embarrassing.” You looked to the ceiling. 

“What do you need?” Ouch. That came out harsh. 

You bit your lip. This was a mistake. “I’ll just call Wanda, I’m sorry I…”

“Wanda is asleep,” Bucky’s tone was softer this time. Consciously softer, “What do you need me to do for you? I’m here to help you.” Your heart softened a bit. You knew you needed to see him after having seen him disappear from your life… Steve’s life… twice. He was here, and real, and safe. He was okay. 

“I need to use the bathroom.” You whispered. Fuck this was embarrassing. His cheeks flushed a bit with that. 

“Uhm, okay.” He gently padded across the room to your side of the bed. 

“If you just get me in there, I can probably handle it. They’re just….”

“Sore?” You nodded. 

“Yeah.” He smiled softly at you. God you needed this. He, with great care, placed his arm under your knees and another behind your back, lifting you from the bed. You hissed from the adjustment. He was kind enough to use his flesh arm to rest your knees on, the metal would have been too hard and unforgiving. 

“Sorry,” He said, you let a heavy breath from your nose. 

“It can’t be helped.” You smiled. _Please like me. Please like me. Steve loves you and I need you to like me and fuck if you carrying me right now isn’t exactly what I needed pain be damned._ He gently carried you to the small on suite bathroom, skillfully lifting the toilet lid with his foot, he placed you there. He hesitated before leaving, unsure of what to do.

“Do you need me to-”

“No, I’ll be fine. This is great thank you.” Your face was probably as red as a tomato, but so was his. 

“Okay… I’ll be right outside, let me know when you’re done.” You nodded awkwardly and he left the room just as awkwardly, shutting the door behind him. _This sucked,_ you thought as you wiggled the sleep shorts down your hips trying to bite back whimpers. The dude had super hearing, this was embarrassing enough, try not to cry. It hurt just as bad to wiggle those shorts back up over your hips. You shifted over to the sink on your right, staying put on the toilet as you washed your hands before calling out to Bucky,

“I’m done.” He was quick to respond, picking you up just as before and bringing you back out into your room. It wasn’t until he brought you back to your bed that he paused. 

“Do you want to go back to bed? Or you could go out to the common room? I could sit you at one of the patio tables outside?” This was weird. He was hovering you above the bed still in his arms. You told your heart to calm down. 

“Uhm… the common room?” You figured it would be good to sit up, maybe you’ll be able to stretch your legs out a bit. 

He placed you gently in the soft recliner caddy cornered from the tv before giving you the remote and placing a blanket over your legs, pausing, “I’m sorry… I guess this is a habit from-”

“Steve?” You offered. You saw him visibly tense, and immediately wanted to take it back. He cleared his throat, moving out of your line of vision, 

“Yeah.” He began to move about the kitchen behind you, the only indication he was still around was the sound of the coffee maker and the pulling of ingredients from the fridge. If you closed your eyes, you could almost put yourself back into a similar memory. Bucky placing Steve in the soft almost threadbare armchair that was in their living room and giving him a lap tray that he was able to sit there and draw on when he was ill. You could almost feel the mucus thick in your chest.

Before you could get too lost you turned the television on, flipping channels before resting on early morning reruns of Flip or Flop. 

“Do you want coffee?” He asked, voice still tense. You tried to look over at him but couldn’t quite get him in your view. 

“Yes please, thank you.” He didn’t reply, coming over with a mug a minute later, milky and sweet. The same way you had taken it when you’d met them in that coffee shop. 

Once. 

“Thank you.” The mug felt good on your cold hands, eyes meeting his retreating form, walking back into the kitchen. The compound began to wake. It was set up by floor, the lower floors (B-2) housed the pool, training rooms, and barracks. The middle floor of the compound (3-4) housed Avengers and Co. with a couple of guest rooms tacked right in, a communal area with television and kitchen along with a few gaming activities like a pool table and stocked bar. The top floors (5-6) housed the lab and offices. It wasn’t long before you could gaze out the floor to ceiling windows and see recruits out running laps in the field. 

You must have been dazed because Bucky had quietly placed a tray next to you with what looked like a beautiful denver omelette with toast and a side of grilled tomatoes, before sitting down on the couch beside you and digging into his own. “You didn’t have to do all this Bucky.” You shifted the tray to your lap. “Thank you so much.”

He paused his eating for a moment, looking at you with wide eyes almost like he expected you to be someone else, before shaking his head, “You’re welcome.” 

And that was that. This was his apology. Take it for what it is, and hopefully you can move on from here. 

When Sam stepped out into the common room for the first time that morning he had to pause to take in what he was seeing. You were laid out in the recliner, dirty plate discarded on the tray next to you, head tilted to the right. Bucky, on your right, sat on the couch, head tilted left a hair from yours, sleeping. Both of you, sleeping. He took his phone quietly from his pocket, snapping a quick picture before moving on. House Hunters International now quietly playing on the tv. 

_“Buck.” You whispered. “Are you awake?” The boy next to you groaned, rolling over to face away from you. You sighed, leaning your head back against your pillow before looking back at him. “Bucky.” You whispered a bit more harshly. It was a sleepover. A pity sleepover. Your Mom, Steve’s Mom, was going through something right now. That’s why you found yourself laying in Bucky’s bed while he stubbornly chose to sleep on the floor. You dropped your hand off the side of the bed and not so softly dug your finger in his ear._

_“Stevie, what are you doing? Stop!” He swatted your hand away, rolling back over to face you with a glare._

_“I can’t sleep.”_

_“So you wake me up?” Bucky was young here. Younger than you’ve seen him. He couldn’t have been more than twelve. Face dotted with acne and a little pudge in his cheeks. The beginnings of puberty._

_“Talk to me,” You said, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “What did Joan Maverick say to you in math?” Bucky looked blankly at you, cheeks growing rosy._

_“Nuthin’” He mumbled, sinking further down into his makeshift bed._

_“No, c’mon Buck, what’d she say?” Bucky sat up, turning to sit closer to the edge of the bed, resting his face close to yours._

_“Just like…” He sighed. The bottom row of his teeth were a little crooked. Not overly, but who knew? Steve knew. You knew. “She told me that Nancy wants to neck with me.” You could feel your body flush a bit, matching the flush Bucky was currently sporting. A little bit of jealousy sat in your chest too._

_“Well are you gonna?” You asked, Bucky’s eyes meeting yours in the dark._

_“Gonna what?”_

_“Neck with her?” Your hand inched closer to where his rested, picking nervously at the sheets._

_Bucky smirked, eyes shifting down to his hand. “I dunno. I’ve never done that kinda thing before.” You felt yourself lick your lips, feeling brave. So brave._

_“Me either.” You said, hand coming to gently stall Bucky’s from picking at the sheets. “Did you wanna…” Bravery is fading, “We could…” Bucky’s eyes met you and your bravery was gone._

_“Just to see what it’s like?” Bucky offered. You could feel yourself nod, cheeks burning. His face leaned in, close to yours. A breath away. Your heart began to skip, was it from your arrhythmia or was it because you were about to kiss Bucky? Who knows. But as his lips pressed against yours your mind went wonderfully blank._

You felt dirty. That was a private moment. Such a private moment and for some reason you felt even more dirty than when you experienced a wet dream about having very consentual adult husband and wife sex. But it’s probably because it was a kiss between two twelve year old boys, something that was probably never spoken of again. Not that you were aware of anyway. It also didn’t help that you never had to look Peggy Carter in the eyes in real life, but Bucky was mere feet away. 

You can never look at him again. 

It was such a sweet moment though and it made you wonder. Bucky and Steve were best friends, ‘Til the end of the line’, the end which Steve invented himself. You knew there was love between them. A love you can feel yourself every minute of every day. But had their relationship extended past a soft experimental kiss as preteens? Is that what you’re feeling? 

“Alright kid, let’s get you doing a little bit of PT.” Wanda had helped you change, a comfy sweatshirt and yoga pants, wool socked feet, you had been brought back to the lab where Bruce and Wanda spread out a spare mat from the training room for you to lie on. Wanda helped you gently stretch, allowing you to work a little bit of strength back into your muscles. “You’re going to still feel pretty sore but we’ll have you ice them tonight.” 

Bruce was looking over a notepad, “I’ve been looking at your bloodwork.” He started, “It’s almost like you got a super watered down generic version of the super serum.” 

“Which means?” You grunted as Wanda raised your right leg into the air. 

“Which means, you have the ability to run 60 mph, but your body can’t handle it.” Bruce expressed lamely. 

“We already knew that Bruce.” Wanda joked, slowly lowering your leg. 

“But it could also apply to other things so you need to be careful. Like… Steve’s strength. You can throw a motorcycle over your head, but you really shouldn’t. You’d tear muscles in your arms and chest. If you were to get in a fight like the one in the alley you could use extra force, but you would ultimately hurt yourself. You have gas and an engine, but nothing else.” 

“So my life basically stays the same?”

“Well other than the flashbacks of Steve’s memory. Did you have any today?” You nodded, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth as Wanda gently massaged your muscles. 

“A few.” Bruce began to scribble. 

“What triggered them?”

“I don’t know, I was asleep both times.” Bruce scribbled some more.

“Is this too much?” Wanda asked, pushing on my hip to stretch out my glutes. You audibly whimpered. 

“A bit.” 

“Okay,” She rolled your hip back down. “A hot bath and then some ice later, you’re gonna love it.” She joked. 

The questioning went on much like that, Wanda stretching you out, Bruce asking ‘Every time you sleep?’ and ‘What were they about?’ You gave him general answers about the contents. 

“Does Bucky trigger flashbacks?” Bruce asked as Wanda helped you sit in a rolling chair by his desk. 

“I mean…” You tried to take a peak at what he’s writing. “Just about every time I see him I have some sort of memory. Good or bad.” Bruce nodded. 

“We will have to see if he’d be willing to help us trigger some memories when we get you in the MRI.” Anxiety at that. Mostly there were good memories. A day at the beach here, sketching at a coffee shop there. But when Bucky triggered a memory it was a 50/50 shot. You did not want to have a bad one while he was mere feet away, watching you come back sobbing and dry heaving. Living through him falling from the train had been the worst, second only to the dream you had this morning where he turned to dust before your eyes. 

“Maybe not today.” You said, wanting nothing more than to eat lunch and then go down for a nap like a toddler. 

“No, we need to get those legs back online first. Grab some lunch and then we will put you back in the cradle for a bit.” Bruce quickly left the room, looking for Bucky you assumed. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You whispered. Wanda giving you a soft look, “I just don’t.” The emotional toll alone was exhausting. Steve was a fucking drama queen. Feelings always rolling around ebbing and growing. Give me a fucking break. 

The bath was incredible. Such a good idea. The fact that Wanda had to see you fully naked in order to help you into it was pushed far, far from your mind. Embarrassment was over, it’s done. The curtain was pulled to give you a semblance of normalcy, but as you looked at your now mostly yellow and brown legs, bruising finally subsiding after spending another 3 hours in the cradle, you realize you will maybe never have anything normal ever again. 

“It’s hard isn’t it?” You asked. “Missing him like that.” Wanda sighed heavily on the other side of the curtain, sat on the closed toilet lid, keeping you company. 

“Everyday,” She said, “I think about him everyday.” Pietro, her brother. “Vision too.” Her boyfriend. Her dead boyfriend. It’s not fair. The only men she’s loved taken from her. Both stripped from her by forces beyond her control. 

“I’m sorry Wanda,” You sunk lower beneath the water, legs bending more easily, still stiff and still sore. 

“It’s alright,” She sniffled a bit, “What did you want to do after this? I think they’re ordering pizza tonight. We could watch a movie or something? It’s getting chilly out, but we could light a fire outside.” You shrugged wordlessly in the bath, water shifting around you. 

“It doesn’t matter to me.” 

Wanda was sweet and kind. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her. The guilt. The shame. She let Hydra give her these powers in order to get revenge on a man for the sins of his father. 

_“You haven’t moved for two days.” You entered her room, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark. She had her curtains pulled shut, tv rambling on softly in the background, Wanda was bundled in blankets, curled in on herself. “Clint is going to stop by tomorrow, he’s gonna want to take you to lunch.” You felt yourself walk over to the side of the bed she was facing, her auburn hair curled and knotted across the pillow, covers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were watery and red._

_Tomorrow you were taking the stones back. Everything was finally done being built. Scott and Bruce desperately recreating a much smaller version of the platform that was destroyed by Thanos. Tony’s funeral had been two days ago. Wanda was still in the outfit she wore to it._

_Devastated._

_You wished you could fix it for her. Make it all better._

_“You’re leaving too.” Her voice rasped. Her watery eyes rolled up to meet yours. “You’re not coming back.” You hadn’t told anyone yet. Not Sam, not Bucky._

_Bucky._

_You were going to talk to him tonight and it sat like a rock on your chest._

_“No,” You said softly, “I’m not.” Wanda sniffled, shifting away from you. “You have to understand how hard it has been for me… I’ve done nothing but worked since waking up. I don’t have a life here.” ….Bucky. “Not the one I wanted.” You looked down at your hands, Steve’s hands. They were large and calloused, you could still see bits of dirt and blood that hadn’t been fully scrubbed from them around his nail beds._

_“Bucky feels the same.” Wanda replied._

_“Bucky… he’s not the same.” You sighed._

_“Neither are you.”_

_“No, I mean.” Your eyes couldn’t move away from your hands, you can’t look her in the eyes. “Bucky has adapted. He knows how to use all of this tech, he knows things I don’t know, historical events, music, movies. Him and Sam were bonding over which Die Hard was better the other day, I’ve never even seen Die Hard.” Your eyes watered a bit. “He’s better adapted to this world than I ever will be. I have this chance to go back and be where I believe I belong. I could have it. Peggy, white picket fence, kids.” Wanda’s hand rested gently over yours._

_“But at what cost Steve? Could you really just leave him like that?” She nuzzled herself into your side, sighing heavily. “Could you leave us all like that?”_

Your lungs hurt. Coughing as you saw red tendrils floating in your line of sight. Water. Your body had a towel haphazardly thrown over it as you lay on the bathroom floor, turning over to cough out what remaining water was in your lungs. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda’s hand gently brushed your hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” You gasped. You weren’t okay. “I’m fine.” 

How could you have left them Steve? Because as you lay there on the floor of the bathroom, shivering in Wanda’s arms you found it hard to remove yourself from them. You wanted to see Bucky again. You wanted to go running with Sam. You wanted to go to the fucking VA. 

You wanted to do all of the things that Steve missed when he went back in time to spend a life with the woman he loved. Because he fucking missed it.


	4. four

This wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him. Sitting there in the dark. A watchman. He’s gone from a ghost to a solid figure, sitting by your bed in the dark. Hair blond, face without wrinkles, bent over. Elbows resting on knees, hands clasped. Staring. It was unnerving. Usually it was just flashes, you’d look in the mirror and he’d be standing there instead of you, or he’d be standing around in the corner of your eye. But this was new. He was just sitting there, staring at you. Thinking. 

Judging?

Not speaking. 

You had to be going crazy. This seemed insane. This was something outside the realm of living through his memories and feeling the roller coaster of emotions you were becoming accustomed to. Your legs didn’t hurt too badly anymore, they were still a little stiff, but they didn’t hurt anymore. You swung them over the side of the bed, coming to face him. Were you hallucinating? You both held eye contact for a minute. 

“Steve?” Your raspy voice asked. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and then he was gone. Next blink, just gone. You sighed heavily, hanging your head, “FRIDAY, open the blinds please?” The mechanical blinds rose, revealing a muted blue sky, the sun just breaking over the horizon. Your toes touched the ground, feeling the heated floors as you stood to stretch your arms above your head, feeling your body crack and groan. 

You lifted your phone from the nightstand, checking the time. It was still early, but most of the agents would have already been starting their morning drills, including Bucky and Sam. Wanda should be waking up soon then if she wasn’t already awake. 

You made your way to your ensuite, brushing your teeth, and staring at your face in the mirror. The serum must be doing something to you because the dark circles under your eyes were gone and your skin looked perfectly dewey. The whites of your eyes were whiter and when you looked back down at your recently bruised and broken legs you couldn’t even tell anything had been wrong with them in the first place. But that could also be due to the cradle. 

The bed suddenly felt way too soft, you’d noticed. You’d never thought about it before. Your bed at home was cheap, the mattress springy and almost uncomfortable, but it was close to what Steve used to sleep on while in the military. What he slept on during missions. The beds on the Quinjet. You might try sleeping on the floor tonight. 

You changed your clothes, today you’d be getting into the MRI, testing to see how your brain reacts to certain stimuli, seeing what happens to your brain when a memory comes on. So far there are no real negative consequences physically to the seizures you have when a memory comes on, but that doesn’t mean that one day something bad won’t happen. This is just to make sure. 

Now that your legs were healed you were itching to run again, and you figured if you paid attention to pace, maybe it’ll be okay. A pair of stretchy yoga pants and large grey Avenger’s issued sweatshirt later you were stepping outside into the crisp morning air. Sam and Bucky stretching off to the right. “Hey kid, how’s it going?” Sam asked, smiling. 

You cautiously walked over to join them, returning his smile, “Better, for sure.” You smiled at Bucky, he gave a forced one in return. He was trying. “A little stiff, but I’m itching to run again so…” Sam pursed his lips,

“If you’re gonna run you’ve gotta take it easy, you can keep pace with me,” He jerked a thumb over at Bucky, “This fool runs at top speed so just make sure you don’t try to keep up with him.” That’s right. Bucky had some sort of super serum too. Not the same as Steve’s but Hydra’s own cocktail. The three of you took off, Sam jogging at a leisurely pace, easing you into it. You kept a steady pace next to him, watching the brown haired super-soldier’s pace slowly pick up before he was lapping the two of you, easily. 

“They’re giving me an MRI today,” You told Sam when he asked, “Hopefully the seizures are still not doing anything to my brain….” 

“I’m sure Bruce will be able to find some way to keep the seizures from happening at all,” Sam said. You stopped running back where you started, not even close to breaking a sweat, but your nerves soothed for the moment, Sam slowing down to a stop a few feet away. 

“Can I ask you something?” You placed your hands on your hips, breathing regulating. 

“Anything kid.” Sam walked closer to you, both of your eyes shifting over to watch Bucky on the other side of the track, looming closer.

“I know you still go to the VA every week,” You said, “And I get it’s weird and like… I’ve never technically been to…” You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve never technically been to war, but…” 

“What exactly is going on with these memories?” He asked you. You’d explained it to them very vaguely before, but Bucky and Sam didn’t really know the depth of it. Not at all. 

You felt tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, hands coming up to rub them away, “It’s like I lived two lives, Sam.” You sighed heavily, “I’ve never technically been to war, but I can still smell…” You rolled your eyes up to the sky, trying hard not to cry. How did Steve not cry all the fucking time? 

“Hey,” He said softly, walking closer to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I get it.” He soothed, “Well… I don’t get the whole ‘two lives’ thing, but the PTSD I get. If you want to come next time…” His voice trailed off as Bucky came to a stop next to the two of you, “You’re more than welcome to join us.” You turned your body away from Bucky, wiping the tears out of your eyes. 

“Join us where?” Bucky asked, stopping to take a long pull from his water bottle. You looked at Sam hesitantly and he nodded, turning back towards Bucky.

“We’ll talk about it later.” He explained, “What time do you have to meet Bruce Y/N?” You checked your phone, 

“Soon, I should probably eat and shower.” You smiled at the both of them, “I’ll see you guys soon yeah?” Bucky nodded tersely. He was going to be helping during the MRI even though you knew he really didn’t want to. 

“If you need anything…” Sam didn’t finish the sentence but it went unsaid. If you need anything, I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you like I was here for Steve. But maybe that was being too hopeful. 

Bucky watched you go in curiosity. “What was that about?” He asked Sam, taking another drink. 

“She’s struggling man.” Bucky scoffed, 

“That’s obvious.” Sam glared at him. 

“I think this whole memory thing goes deeper than just her remembering things Steve has done.” He explained, “She asked me to go to the VA.” Bucky was taken aback at that. 

“She’s not military.” It was a simple explanation. “She can’t go.” 

“Bucky,” Sam sighed, “She’s struggling with this and if she has Steve’s memories, those memories include war. A war she didn’t choose to fight, missions she didn’t choose to go on. She’s scared and uncomfortable with what she’s seeing I’m sure.” Bucky wrestled with this for a moment, he knew Sam was right, but honestly the VA was something he cherished wholeheartedly. It was something he had with Sam outside of the missions and training. Something real. Something normal. And he didn’t know if he was comfortable with her interloping on that. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Wanda asked you over a bowl of cereal. You smiled at your friend, reaching in the fridge for the milk to make your own bowl of cereal. 

“A lot better, honestly.” You explained, “Had a nice jog with Sam this morning, my legs feel great.” 

“Are you ready for today?” She was scrolling through her phone, looking at dessert recipes. 

“Maybe?” You sighed, spooning some cereal into your mouth. “I don’t know. I usually have at least one memory a day, but I’m afraid of having a bad one.” Wanda looked up at you from her phone, 

“Do you have bad memories often?” She asked. 

“It depends.” You stared down at the cheerios. “Depends on what triggers it.” 

An hour later you were in scrubs, your hair tied up, laying on the table and ready to go into the machine. You tried not to think about how loud and claustrophobic it all was going to be as Bruce prepped you. 

“You’ll see a series of images first,” He explains, “After that we will begin with Bucky talking to you, just very candidly about a couple of good memories he has of Steve.” He probably hates you for this. It was hard to swallow that thought. You could see Wanda, Sam, and Bucky standing on the other side of the glass, chatting idly as Bruce was securing some sort of cage around your head to keep you from moving. “If it gets to be too much and you need to take a break just let us know and I’ll pull you out okay?” He was reassuring and you could almost feel comfortable if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest. 

The bed slowly entered the machine and there was a pause as it clicked to life around you, loudly. Was it the machine or your heart beating that loud? 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, his voice coming out of the speaker. 

“Yeah I’m fine.” You took a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, closing your eyes for a minute. 

“Okay so we are going to start with the first picture.” And up it went. Coney Island. The Cyclone at Coney Island. 

_“I’m not doing it!” You exclaimed. “You can go alone!” You were a teenager now, Bucky was a teenager now. Bright blue eyes, wide smile, a pimple on the right side of his chin, but otherwise unblemished. Happy._

_“C’mon pal,” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “You owe me one anyway.” You felt yourself scoff, turning towards him._

_“You just spent 30 minutes trying to win a stuffed bear for Dot,” You laughed, “If anything, you owe me.” This was one of the first double dates of many you and Bucky had gone on. Both of you fifteen years old, saved allowances in your pockets, Bucky got two girls Dot and Moira to come out to Coney Island with you. You’d been riding rides and eating hot dogs all day. Bucky just spent your last three dollars winning Dot a bear, Moira ignored you the whole day, and you were feeling kinda low. The last thing you wanted to do was ride the Cyclone._

_“C’mon, we have one ticket each left, let’s ride it and then we can figure out a way home.” It was hard to say no to Bucky, especially when he was looking at you like that. You rolled your eyes,_

_“Fine.” A large grin stretching out on his face, hands clapping together, “Alright, let’s go!” His large hand wrapped around yours pulling you into the queue. A quick trip on the Cyclone found your head in the trash can beside it, small body heaving, the hot dog and cotton candy coming up just as easily as it had gone down. What a waste._

You came back to consciousness dry heaving, body tilted to the side as Wanda rubbed your back. “Are you gonna throw up?” She asked, Sam was holding a bucket under your head. 

“What was it?” Bruce asked. Bucky stood off to the side, unsure what to do. You took a sip from the water bottle Sam offered you, catching your breath. 

“Threw up after riding the cyclone,” You explained, eyes flickering over to Bucky, then back to Bruce. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Bruce said, typing something into the computer. “Are you okay to go again?” 

“You’re not gonna give her a break?” Bucky asked, turning toward the Hulk. Bruce looked from Bucky and back to you. Sam left the trash can on the floor by your head, just in case, but still stood nearby with your water bottle. 

“Do you need a break Y/N?” Wanda helped you roll back onto the table as you caught your breath. Your throat hurt and you still felt the lingering nausea, 

“No, I’m okay.” You said, “We can continue.” 

The next picture didn’t do anything. It was your own apartment. The one you hadn’t been to all week. The third picture was a drawing you knew Steve had done, a memory of sitting in a cafe, the taste of coffee on your tongue, but no seizure. 

The fourth picture sent you reeling, breath coming out in heavy pants as the machine closed around you, 

_“Bucky!” You screamed, arm reaching out to him, watching him hang from the side of the train. The fucking train. How do you get him out of this? How can you save him this time? You couldn’t reach any farther without falling out yourself, his hand not coming close to yours, not close enough. Fuck._

_His watery blue eyes met yours and your heart stopped in your chest, his arm swinging up for one last attempt to grab yours that’s when the bar he was holding onto broke. That’s when it always broke, that’s when you lost him every time. “Bucky!” You screamed again as you watched him fall from sight, the train still rushing onto its destination._

“Get me out!” You yelled. The machine was quickly turned off, you were wrestling with the cage around your face, breaking it accidentally, tossing it to the side. Tears blurred your vision as you sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Y/N calm down!” Wanda’s hands gripped your upper arms, stalling you from moving. You choked on your tears, sinking your head down onto her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around you. You felt so embarrassed, face hot with it, but you couldn’t stop crying. You knew it was ridiculous. He was standing right there. He’s not actually dead. But in that moment Steve didn’t know that. In that moment he just lost the one person who had been by his side through everything and you lost him too. 

“Alright kid, it’s okay.” Sam’s voice was calm, his hand rubbing your back as you tried to control your breathing, your eyes peeking over Wanda’s shoulder to steal a glance at Bucky. He’s right there. He’s alive. He’s safe. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the floor, fists clenched. And you watched him leave the room. 

“What happened?” Bruce asked. 

“Give her a minute man.” Sam said, your tears were drying up but your heart still felt empty. You wanted Bucky, but it wasn’t an option. 

“He fell from the train.” You explained softly, voice thick and watery. “I can never save him.” It didn’t need to be explained who ‘he’ was. They all knew and in that moment what you had been going through was shared with the group. Wanda gripped you a little tighter, 

“Let’s finish for the day,” She told Bruce, “We can pick back up tomorrow or something.” Bruce nodded, shutting the machine off. 

“Anyone up for Chinese?” 

Bucky didn’t expect that viceral of a reaction. The dry heaving after experiencing a memory of riding the Cyclone, one that he remembered well. Standing by Steve as he upchucked into the trash can, his vomit was tinted pink from cotton candy. Her experiencing him falling from the bridge. The screaming that started before she was even fully out. A blood curdling scream of his name, loud and clear over the microphone that was wired into the machine. Fuck. 

He bruised his knuckles because he didn’t wrap them before going in on the punching bag. Something had to break the tension he was feeling in his shoulders. His left one was aching with a phantom pain that almost never went away. The ache of a limb lost. The memories of being half conscious as they dragged his body from the ravine. Where they cut the rest of his arm off in order to attach the metal one to his shoulder. He shudders with the thought. 

Sam was good at distractions. It was a talent, truly. Multiple Chinese takeout containers were littered across the coffee table, reruns of Masterchef playing across the screen as you, Sam, Wanda, Bruce, and later on Bucky, eat in almost silence. 

Bucky was freshly showered, taking a seat next to the recliner that he had placed you in the day before, the one you were currently sitting in, before making himself a plate and sitting back to watch Gordon Ramsay expertly debone a fish. 

“Could you debone a fish Buck?” Sam asked, this is what he’s good at. Bucky scoffed, slurping up his lo mien. 

“Of course I can, what kind of question is that?” Sam smirked, looking over at you and then back to Bucky. 

“Yeah, but not as good as Ramsay, look at the dude.” He gestured towards the man laying out the portioned filets and perfectly removed bones. Bucky rolled his eyes, having shoveled the first half of his plate into his mouth so fast you hadn’t even seen him eat. 

“I can debone a fish twice as fast.” Sam scoffed. He was challenging him. 

“There’s a salmon in the fridge with your name on it buddy.” Bucky glared at him, you all knew what Sam was doing, but none of you were fighting it. 

“Start timing me.” The plates were abandoned and the group of you circled around the kitchen counter, Wanda holding her phone up to record, Sam using the stopwatch on his phone to time him. The whole fish laying out on the butchers block in front of him, knives at the ready. It was possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Bucky was a good cook. A decent cook you should say. Steve, when he was a kid and they were living in that shitty apartment in Brooklyn, Bucky would make stews out of almost nothing. A trick he had learned from his Ma. That you remembered from one time you were making a stew and freezing out portions to be more cost effective. You remembered the smell of their kitchen, Bucky with an apron tied around his waist, still in his grey jumpsuit from the canary. Youthful and sweet. His short hair curled on his forehead from the steam coming from the pot. 

He deboned the fish and portioned it out in less than a minute. The food scale in the kitchen weighed each portion as an even 3.8 oz. 

“Well I guess we are having that for dinner tomorrow night.” Sam joked. He elbowed his friend grinning, Bucky looked so proud of himself. He should be. It was an interesting party trick. His dexterity with knives were not just for disarming people, but it could be used for something more wholesome. 

The rest of dinner was eaten in a content silence, Sam booing when the one person he liked on the show accidentally burned their fish and was eliminated. 

You liked this. It was better than going to work and coming home to an empty house. Eating dinner alone and laying in bed scrolling through your phone until you fell asleep. Today was tiring though and you couldn’t wait to go to bed as you helped everyone clean up the mess. There were no leftovers thanks to Bruce who you were sure could put any restaurant out of business just from the sheer volume he could eat now, so it was mainly packing up containers and tossing them. Washing plates. 

“So why don’t we take a break from the prodding and you come to the VA tomorrow?” Sam asked, handing you a plate to place in the dishwasher. Your eyes flickered over to Bucky who was wrapping up the trash to throw down the chute. You know he can hear you, but he’s not making any motion to let you know. 

“If that’s alright?” You ask, watching Bucky’s retreating back. 

“Hey,” Sam brings your attention back to him, “You know how hard this is for him, but it’s hard for you too. You can’t just sacrifice your feelings for someone else. He’ll be okay.” You wanted to believe him. You really did, but everything in your body is telling you Bucky wasn’t okay. It was hard. 

“I’ll think about it,” You sighed, turning to close to dishwasher, “I’ll see you in the morning?” Sam smiled, hugging you softly. 

“Sleep well kid,” Wanda had already retired to her room and Bruce to his, which left you crossing an empty common room back to your own bedroom. 

Bucky was leaning against your door, the dim light from your room illuminating him. You were hesitant to move any closer. He looked at you silently for a moment, gesturing into the room, “Can we talk?” Your heart skipped a beat, 

“Yeah,” You said, “Of course.” 

You’ve been in this room a couple days now, the neutral tones making it look more like a hotel room than a person’s actual bedroom but you weren’t sure how long you’d be staying so personal effects weren’t really a high priority. You had a couple pictures of family, but most surfaces stayed barren. A well worn college sweatshirt was tossed on your bed, but Bucky surely noticed that the room didn’t look typically lived in. 

He sat himself in the chair that Wanda had previously used beside your bed. The one Steve was sitting in this morning. You almost stopped him from sitting there, as though you were waiting for Steve to come take a spot there to watch the conversation that was about to happen. You were unsure whether or not you should close the door, but seeing as you were the only person residing in this hallway you decided to leave it open. 

You sat on the bed across from him, waiting for him to speak. The two of you awkwardly sat in silence for a minute, Bucky’s mouth opening and closing a few times before he began, 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick to you,” He started. 

“I understand, it’s okay.” You shifted nervously in your seat. His eyes met yours, 

“It’s not okay, you didn’t deserve it.” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, “All of this is out of your control and instead of trying to help you, I’ve been keeping my distance and I’ve been relatively cold.” 

“You made me breakfast yesterday and helped me use the bathroom.” You offered. His lips turned into a terse smile, 

“That doesn’t exactly make me a good person, doll.” Doll. Term of endearment or habit? He sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes, “Today… in the MRI machine…” Your throat almost felt as though it was closing up, the air thick in the room. It was hard to breathe. “You feel everything he felt?” He asks. 

“I’ve told you that before I…” You trailed off, picking at a stray string on the pillowcase. 

“You said you could feel the same emotions he felt, but not like…” The scream was echoing in his head, the bloodcurdling scream, “It’s intense?” His chapped bottom lip bled with how hard he bit it. 

“It’s like…” You stood from the bed, creating some distance because he was all of a sudden too close. “It’s like losing you for real.” You explained. His head snapped up to look at you and you felt his eyes boring into your back. “Steve’s emotions and memories… everything he’s ever felt.” You started, “It’s like I know all of you already and none of you know me. I feel…” Your face flushed with embarrassment, growing hot under the pressure. 

“Like I’m your best friend?” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning back to him. His expression unclear to you. 

“LIke you’re my best friend,” You felt tears well up in your eyes. You were so sick of fucking crying. “And you want nothing to do with me.” Coming out as a whisper. Bucky sat back in the chair, studying you for a minute. 

“This is hard,” His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, “So fucking hard.”

“I know,” You cried, wiping at your eyes quickly trying to stop the tears, “I know.” He stood from his chair and slowly made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you tightly to his chest. Fuck if this isn’t what you so desperately needed, your arms wrapping around him just as tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into your hair, “I’m really going to try, I promise.” Your hands were clenched tightly in his t shirt, tears dampening the chest. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You admitted, muffled against him. 

“Come to the VA tomorrow,” He offered, “We can start there.” 

We can start there.


	5. five

The community center was in Brooklyn, the large brick building housed many different projects. An after school program for kids, a homeless shelter at night, various ‘anonymous’ meetings during the day. This wasn’t like the typical VA. It was very much a hodgepodge group of people brought together by the circumstance of Sam Wilson being a good human being. Sam Wilson was probably one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. 

You didn’t belong here, maybe this was a mistake. You were standing very awkwardly off to the side, holding a cheap styrofoam cup of coffee. If anything this dress was definitely a mistake, the button up t-shirt dress you figured was a nice middle ground of looking nice but not trying to look too nice, but everyone else’s jeans and t-shirts made you feel like you should have just worn jeans and a t-shirt. The exception was Sam, who ran the group. He was in a nice button down and slacks, but even Bucky was just in a black t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. 

You were trying not to think about it. 

“Are you going to be okay while we make some rounds?” Sam asked you. The two wanted to leave you momentarily to go and greet people they know, “Grab a drink, we’ll be right back.” 

You didn’t belong here. These men and women who actually lived it. You flinched at the memory that plagued you last night. Boot camp. It was rough, but Steve made it through. Not without sore bones and an asthma attack or two. But it wasn’t you. 

You feel like a fraud. 

You could feel yourself at a different time, a darker room. People who were a little more sad. 

After the blip, when everyone came back, the world was a mess. People who had moved on now had their spouses, partners, kids back. Some of them had new kids, had gotten remarried. Others had died during the blip. The accidents caused by disappearing drivers, pilots. People who couldn’t handle the loss. People returning was just as bad as people disappearing. But everyone picked themselves back up a little easier. 

There was optimism with loss. Iron Man, Tony Stark. Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. Captain America, Steve Rogers. They sacrificed their lives in order to save everyone in the entire universe. There were murals of their faces in every borough of New York City. You passed three on your way in. 

“This VA is a little different than the one I ran in DC,” Sam said, “But it’s pretty much the same.” There was a mural of their faces in this community center. It made you a little sick. You could almost feel him looking over your shoulder, Steve, hot on your back. Like he was actually there. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Bucky told you as the three of you parked the car, “Get some coffee, eat some snacks. You can just observe.” He was trying hard for you, hand on your back, rubbing slightly to comfort you, but you felt empty when he walked away to talk to a man who was much older. Someone who was almost his actual age, in a wheelchair playing cards with men not much younger than him. 

It wasn’t hard to forget that Bucky was supposedly in his hundreds. It was 2025, the guy was 108 years old. He looked to be in his 30s. You felt like you were a hundred, suddenly the coffee wasn’t that bad. 

“New here?” A man sidled up next to you, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the metal coffee server next to you. He was handsome, but had the same hollow look in his eyes that you’d often seen in Bucky and Sam. Even Steve. You scraped your fingernail gently against the styrofoam. Nervously you answered, 

“Yeah,” You took a sip from your coffee. Fraud. “I’m just here with some friends though,” You explained, gesturing to Sam. “I’m not- I haven’t.” He chuckled, stirring his creamer with one of the wooden stir sticks before studying you. 

“It’s okay,” He smiled. Charming. “You don’t have to explain.” His hair looked like it was cut with kitchen scissors, you noticed. Shaggy and reaching around his ears. Five o’clock shadow, motor oil around his nail beds. “I’ve been coming here for about a year now,” He explained. “It gets easier.” Sip of coffee and a sweet smile. “No matter what brought you here.” 

“I’m Y/N.” You offered him your hand. He grinned, his teeth were perfectly straight. 

“I’m Eric.” His hand was rough and calloused in yours, a shiver went through your body when you noticed he had dimples. “Do you wanna sit by me, maybe?” He gestured over to where Sam and Bucky were setting up the circle of chairs. You looked over at the both of them, who seemed intent on trying to not pay attention to your conversation. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared at Bucky for a moment more, heart aching, 

“Sure.” 

He refreshed your coffee for you and sat a little too close to make you comfortable. You didn’t notice Bucky and Sam exchange a look, before Bucky decided to sit on the other side of you. 

“You okay?” He asked, nudging your arm softly, eyes pointedly glancing at Eric. You nodded silently, giving him a soft smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” You could tell he felt unsure, shifting down in his seat so he could look at Eric from behind you. 

Bucky was unsure about this guy. 

“He’s just being friendly,” Sam assured him as they brought out the metal folding chairs from the utility closet. “We left her alone for a while, she obviously was uncomfortable.” Bucky huffed grumpily. 

“He’s trying to hit on her.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Relax Buck.” Sam unfolded the papers from his pocket and laid them on the chair he’d be using, “She’s fine.” It didn’t stop him from heavily taking the chair next to yours, leaning back in his seat to examine the guy as he talked, trying to read him and see what he was all about. 

“I lost my wife in the field.” He said. Your heart broke, “We were in separate divisions. I’m a marine, she was in the air force.” You could see Bucky shift in his seat. “During the blip she was running drills with a teammate, the plane went down when her teammate blipped.” Eric’s eyes were watery when they met yours, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “I had blipped myself so…” He swallowed harshly. “When I came back… I had nothing to come back to. I always thought if either of us were to die at war it would be me y’know? The air force is typically pretty safe.” 

“We were all affected by the blip,” Sam explained, “Some in more ways than others. You’re very brave for sharing that with us.” Bucky grunted next to you and you looked over at him, sunk down in his seat, hands in his jacket pockets, starting ahead at Sam. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered to Eric, placing a hand on his arm. He looked at you with a watery smile. 

“I’m trying to move on,” He explained to the group. “It’s been two years since I’ve been back and I think it’s finally time.” The group clapped for him in encouragement. 

The air here was tense. Everyone had a story like this, something similar anyway. Sam lost his best friend out in the field. A girl named Ally lost her right leg in Afghanistan. A man named Neil’s daughter died overseas in war, he fought in Vietnam. It was heartbreaking. These people were laying themselves bare, exposing their insecurities and their fears. Their never ending night terrors and crowd anxiety. Slowly, over time, the room became lighter. More relieved. 

“You think you’ll be back?” Eric asked you as people were collecting their belongings. You shifted your empty coffee cup between your hands, looking at Bucky behind you. 

“Maybe,” You said with a nervous smile. 

“We just have to clean up and then we can go if you want,” Bucky interrupted, giving Eric a tight smile before looking at you.

“We can stay if you wanted to play some cards or something?” You offered. Bucky had promised one of the older men from earlier that he would stick around and play a hand or two. He shrugged, looking over at Sam. 

“I’m just saying, the first time is kind of intense,” Eric was standing off to the side awkwardly during this exchange where Bucky seemed to be ignoring his presence. “If you wanna go back home we can.” His hand lay comfortingly on your arm. 

You shake your head, “No, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” He nodded once, eyes drifting back to Eric’s momentarily before grabbing both of your chairs and walking away. 

“Your boyfriend is scary.” Eric laughed nervously.

“Oh he’s not-” You gestured towards Bucky, “He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just like-” You didn’t know how to properly explain it, “Roommates.” Sounds about right. 

Relief crossed Eric’s features, “Oh good,” He walked with you back over to the coffee and continued as you poured yourself another cup, “So it wouldn’t be too forward of me to ask you to dinner?” Your hand stilled under the coffee server, looking up at the man beside you. 

He was handsome and from what you could tell he was kind. It just wasn’t the right time. You had so much going on. How would you even begin to explain the compound? He had to know who Bucky and Sam were. 

“Is that a no?” He chuckled nervously. You sighed and looked down at the black liquid in your cup.

“I’m sorry,” Your eyes met his crestfallen ones, “It’s just…” you looked over at Bucky and Sam, sitting down to join the older men in a game of poker. “I’m recovering from heart surgery and it’s been…a process.” A soft smile broke out on his face, 

“Not technically a no… can I at least give you my number?” He offered, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Maybe once you’re a little more out of the process?” You’ve never really dated, having been too sick for most of your life. This could be your chance to go on an honest to god date. Flowers, dinner, everything. You were still so unsure of your feelings. Steve’s and yours mixed all together in this overflowing pot you’d been trying to keep from spilling over. 

“Sure,” You pulled your phone out of the pocket of your dress, exchanging numbers with him. He was charming and if that dimple was anything to go by, you could imagine caring about him. Someone that seemed as broken as you felt. Maybe. In a different place, a better life. 

“Stay safe out there.” He called as you left to join Sam and Bucky at the poker table. 

“You too,” You called back, choosing to pointedly ignore Sam and Bucky’s questioning looks. 

“What was that all about?” Sam asked teasingly. A blush spread across your cheeks,

“Nothing.” Bucky was stiff next to you. They dealt you in, a game you’d never played before, but the older man–Louie–assured you he’d help you out. He was wearing his Vietnam veteran hat and he told you that you reminded him of his granddaughter. 

“You shouldn’t really be dating right now.” Bucky said later on in the car on the ride home. Sam gave him a side eye, 

“Buck, chill.” Sam glanced at you in the rear-view mirror. 

“It’s none of your business frankly.” What the fuck? “I told him no.” You pulled your phone from your pocket, sinking down in the back seat. 

“I’m just saying,” Bucky shrugged, looking out the car window, “You should be focusing on figuring out whatever is going on with you right now.” 

“What do you think I’m doing?” You snapped, glaring at the back of his head. God his hair was shiny. “What is your problem?”

“Yeah, Bucky, what’s your problem?” Sam pulled up to the gate of the compound, scanning a key card to enter. He grumbled in the passenger seat, 

“Something’s off about that guy.” He explained to the both of you, “I don’t like him.” 

“Something off like what?” You asked angrily, leaning towards the passenger seat. “Him asking me to dinner or him crying about his dead wife?”

“I don’t know yet.” You rolled your eyes, shifting away from him. 

“This is just like that time Barbie Goldstien asked me to the Sadie Hawkins instead of you, you literally swore she was doing it to be mean.” You accused. Heart dropping out of your chest practically as you realize what you just said. The car was parked and the three of you sat in a tense silence. No one moved. Your throat was closing up, where did all the air go? Bucky practically ripped the car door off, kicking it open with his foot, leaving it open. He walked four paces away towards the front door before turning and returning to the car, ducking his head back in to stare you down, face enraged,

“She did ask Steve as a prank, I told her to either go with him for real or to fake sick otherwise I was going to tell everyone about her pissing herself in the hallway in the first grade. So my intuition was right.” Car door slammed and he was stomping up to the house, leaving the two of you in a strange silence. You tossed your head back, looking at the sky from the back window of the car, tears welling in your eyes. 

“I can never win Sam.” He leaned back against the headrest sighing heavily. “I’m losing what’s me and what is him.” He looked at you from the rearview mirror, you lifted your head to look at him. 

“Bucky is never going to be easy.” He explained, “He’s trying.” You know he is. “He’s trying.” Sam repeated again, rubbing his eyes. 

You didn’t see either of them for the rest of the night. 

“I’m getting better at it,” Wanda said, her powers. Practicing. They were incredible, powerful. She was strong, “I lost a lot of confidence after what happened in Nigeria, but I’ve come a long way since then.” She was lifting things in the gym, both of you in workout gear, she was showing you how easily she could lift heavy objects, but you already knew that. You’ve already seen it. “I try not to use the mind warping unless I actually have to.” She explains. You remember that too. She’d shown you Peggy.

She’d shown Steve, Peggy. 

You could almost feel her dress beneath your fingertips, swaying side to side, dancing in your living room. Nat King Cole crooning over the speakers of the record table under the window that faced the rose bushes you’d planted for her, their buds just peeking over the windowsill. A roast was in the oven, it was Sunday. 

_“I was thinking of taking a Holiday,” She whispered against your chest. “We could go to the beach?” You hummed in contentment,_

_“We can do that.” You flitted back to the quiet singing coming over the speakers. This is what you wanted wasn’t it? Peggy was in your arms, shield and hammer packed away. For all intents and purposes you were a house husband. Coming out whenever Peggy had something she needed your help with, but for the most part…_

_You cooked, cleaned, you’d recently been discussing having a child._

_Who were you now?_

_You were just Steve Rogers._

_Just Steve._

“Hey,” Wanda was in your line of vision, “You okay?” You hummed, 

“Yeah, did I have another seizure?” She shook her head.

“No, you just kind of drifted off, like daydreaming.” Huh. “You had another memory?” Her brow was pinched in concern. 

“Yeah,” You shake your head as if clearing a fog. “I did.” You sighed heavily, rolling back to lay down on the mat beneath you, staring at the ceiling. 

“What was it about?” She asked, sitting herself next to you. 

“Peggy.” You gave her a tense smile. “It’s so strange to love someone—remember someone—in such an intimate way, someone I’ve never known myself… but Steve loved her.” Wanda nodded, hand coming to rub your back soothingly. 

“He left all of us for her.” Emotion thick in her voice.

It was hard to remember that Bucky wasn’t the only person that lost Steve. The only person who was devastated by him leaving. He left hand prints on all of these people’s lives and just left. “The only selfish thing the guy’s ever done in his life.” Sam told you with a humorless laugh. 

No.

Steve’s done a bunch of selfish things. 

The accords. 

You felt the self-righteousness. The belief in being right. A part of you still staunchly believes you did the right thing, the only thing you could have done. The only thing Steve could have done. But you know that it could have been handled differently. 

Steve was clouded by thoughts of Bucky and the need to protect the man who always protected him. Bucky was a good kid. Better than Steve ever was. While Bucky was taking care of his Ma, his sister Becca, and Steve himself, Steve was off getting into fights and trying to illegally enlist in the war he would lose Bucky to. 

Bucky was really good at science and math, he liked dancing and music, he loved the movies. He had time for all of those things, when he wasn’t pulling twelve hour shifts at the canary and picking Steve’s sorry ass off the street where his face had found someone’s fists. 

You suddenly realized why Bucky looked so tired. 

He’s been tired his entire life. 

“I can understand why he did it,” Wanda continued, “If I had the chance to have either of them back…” You nodded solemnly, the two of you coming to hold each other in the middle of the gym. 

“That’s the thing though right?” You stared over her shoulder, watching Bucky as he entered the gym, eyes catching yours, “If we all got everything we ever wanted the world would probably be a much more terrible place.” 

You were trying to sleep when the first text came in, 

**Eric: Hey, I know this is a little soon and you said you weren’t ready to date, but everyone has time for friends right?**

You stared at your phone screen in the dark, thinking about the man you had met earlier in the day. You’ve always felt pretty average. You knew you weren’t ugly, but you wouldn’t exactly compare yourself to Gal Gadot or anything. You’d just never had the time for actual dating. You were born with heart problems, they persisted throughout your entire life getting increasingly worse until you found yourself on the table under a knife getting the heart of a deceased super soldier. In high school, prime dating years, you spent more time in the hospital than in the classroom and you were sickly, pale, always with bags under your eyes and a crushing fatigue. 

You’d never been approached like this before. 

You’d never been asked on a date before. 

You’d never had someone ask you for your number and then text you the same day before. 

This was new. 

So what are you supposed to do? You stared at your phone screen in the dark, the light from it illuminating your face as you typed out your reply.

**Do you want to get coffee sometime?**


	6. six

_Well, this was awkward._

_Peggy sat across from you, a gorgeous off the shoulder red dress, red painted lips, hair curled perfectly. Lipstick stained the rim of her wine glass. “Relax,” She soothed, her hand coming to place gently over yours. Her nails were red lacquered, perfectly manicured. “You look like you’re waiting for the floor to drop from beneath you.” She humored._

_“I think in some ways I am,” You smiled at her. You almost couldn’t believe you were even here. You’d come back to almost the minute you’d gone into the ice. A separate timeline. A new future. You looked around the room, other couples just as cozy and close. It was a romantic italian place, pianist playing softly in the corner._

_This was your first date with Peggy. Steve’s first date with Peggy. The plates in front of you were soon picked at and consumed, the woman across from you with her eyes twinkling made your heart skip in your chest. She was just as beautiful as you remembered. This aching hole being filled by her soft touch. Her hand in yours as you slowly danced to the pianist’s lilting melody._

_“I’ve been without you,” You could hear yourself say, “Longer then I would have ever liked to be.” Her dark brown eyes smiling up at you._

_“I love you, Steven.” You smiled, pressing your lips to her forehead, before resting your head on top of hers,_

_“I love you too.”_

It only made sense that you would have that memory now, sitting here in a little cafe in Brooklyn, sweater sleeves curled over your fingers as you tried to warm them from the cold. Fall was here and it swept through the city quickly, the leaves were almost fully changed you’d noticed on the drive in. A few stragglers still holding their green hue while others have submit to their lifecycle. 

“You could hardly even call this coffee,” Eric joked as he settled into the chair in front of you, “You have a sweet tooth?” He smiled as he took a sip of what looked like black coffee. You smiled back, wrapping your cold fingers around the mug of your milky sweet coffee taking a testing sip. Almost perfect. 

“Not usually,” you admit, “For whatever reason I just really like my coffee being sweet.” You shrug, “It’s how my grandmother always took hers.” He was handsome, just like you remembered. Dimpled cheeks, very white teeth, his smile was infectious and made you warm all over. 

“So, how’ve you been?” He asked, leaning forward, your mugs and hands almost touching. Today was VA day, a week had passed since you’d last seen him and you told Sam and Bucky that you were going to head into the city early to grab coffee with Eric before heading over. 

Sam was quick to give a teasing flirtatious grin, whereas Bucky wasn’t too keen on the idea. “I’ll go with you,” He offered. He was obviously irritated when you’d told him no. 

“I’ve been alright,” You took a sip of your coffee before continuing, “Been taking a break from the testing and everything.” You’d explained you Eric briefly over text about complications that came with heart surgery, but you didn’t tell him what those complications were. 

“It must be strange, huh?” He glanced out the window and then back at you, “Living with heroes like that.” You shrug absentmindedly. 

“They’re just like everyone else,” You laugh, “but they’re really nice people,” Eric nods, “They’re a fun crowd.”

“I bet.” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “So you work for the Avengers?” He asked, picking at the muffin he’d bought. It was probably best to lie here, 

“Yeah, I just assist Dr. Banner in his lab,” You lie, “I have no idea what he’s doing half the time, but he likes the company. What about you?” The motor oil around his nail beds, 

“I’m a mechanic now, my Pops had his own shop that I took over after—“ he choked up a bit, “After I blipped back.” You placed your hand gently over his, 

“Hey, it’s okay.” You smiled, “You don’t have to hide that kind of stuff from me.” Rubbing your thumb against his rough hand you continued, “Everyone still hurts from the blip. Everyone.” He nodded, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Thank you.” He sighed heavily, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry and make this awkward—“

“I don’t feel awkward.” You offered, watching a smile break out on his face. “Listen, I’m not sure if I’m ready to date yet either. This was kind of like—“

“Dipping your toe in the water?” He asked, god he was cute. 

“Yes.” You laughed. “So don’t feel pressured about it. Really.” He nodded, beginning again, 

“Anyway, I’m a mechanic.” He laughed nervously clearing his throat, “I live here in Brooklyn, I have my entire life aside from when I was doing my tours.” He’d done two of them. He spends most of his week working under the hood and the rest of it was spent going to the VA, visiting his sick Mother who was now in hospice. He was just a normal guy. 

A handsome, sweet, opened the door for you as you left, normal guy. It was nice. 

He didn’t make a big deal about your heart. The fact that you just had surgery, which was also nice. It seemed to be the only thing people wanted to talk about when they found out you’d had a heart transplant, not having to talk about it and skirt around knowing the name of the donor like you had to with everyone else. 

He’d bought both of you coffee to-go, “The stuff they have down at the VA is kind of trash.” He laughed, the two of you walking to the community center where your cars were parked. It was a Wednesday afternoon, the sun was shining, your sweater becoming a poor choice now that it reached the days highest temp. 

You’d been a block or two away when it happened. 

The fight or flight kicks in before they even made themselves aware, Eric was grabbed before you were, you watched a fist meet his face, blood spattering on the ground as you screamed in alarm. Hands met your arms and Steve took over, twisting around to turn his wrists, smacking your head against his, causing your ears to ring and vision blur momentarily as he fell to the ground unconscious. 

Another man, twice your weight and at least a foot taller than you grabs you roughly, shoving you to the ground, grabbing your foot and dragging you into the alley where Eric was pinned against the wall, punches raining on his gut, “Let her go!” He yelled, trying to break free. 

You kicked your handler in the groin, the large man grunting in pain as he curled over, grabbing himself as you jumped up from your spot on the ground, your hands had gravel embedded in them, beginning to bleed. 

You raise your fists, back against the wall facing the large man as he straightened back up. “Give up kid,” He grunts, “Just come with us.” You ball your fist tightly, turning to swing on him, but your fist fell through the air, the man being ripped away from you, throwing you off balance to fall on the ground. 

Bucky.

And Sam. The two men who were pummeling Eric were soon disbanded, one taking off out of the alley and onto the street, the other unconscious, Sam’s hand fisted in his shirt. You crawled on your knees, over to Eric pushing his chest against the wall, helping him sit upright from where he collapsed on the ground. 

“Bucky!” You yelled. The super soldier had the large man in a headlock, his eyes slowly closing and the hand that beat against his metal arm slowing until it stopped. “Bucky…” You felt your vision begin to blur as you fell backward, head hitting heavily against the concrete.

_“Stay down kid.” The greaser spat. You could taste the blood in your mouth, the concrete beneath your hands as you pushed yourself back up, stumbling on your feet. “You’re either a fuckin’ idiot or you just wanna die kid.” He raised his fists back up._

_“I don’t like bullies,” came from your mouth, and you remembered. This guy was being fresh with a girl. In the diner where you were having lunch and sketching. He wouldn’t leave her alone. “Especially not perverts who don’t understand what ‘no’ means.” The guy rolled his eyes at you taking a quick swing that connected with your jaw, tossing you back on the ground. You groaned in pain, trying to get back up._

_There was a scuffle and when you looked up, Bucky was in boxing stance in front of you, landing a right hook on the jaw of the greaser, throwing him back into the wall before the guy took off leaving the two of you with your heavy breathing._

_An asthma attack was coming on. “Alright big guy,” Bucky’s hands met your arms, pulling you off the ground. “Breathe, Stevie.” Bucky matched your breaths with his, pulling a little jar from his pocket. He popped the lid and held it under your face. Peppermint oil. You could feel it, cold down your airways, his soothing breaths matching yours until you were calm._

_“Hey Buck.” His hair was slicked back, he was wearing his work uniform. He must’ve just come from the canary. He rolled his eyes at you before wrapping an arm under your shoulder to help you walk home._

_“You can’t keep doing this Steve.” Dabbing alcohol on your bleeding lip and fists. “One day you’re not gonna get back up.” Throat tight with emotion. You felt guilty. Every time. But you couldn’t help it. You can’t just stand by and do nothing. It just wasn’t who you were._

“Hey.” His voice was soft against your ear. You shifted in his arms. You were in his arms, turning your head, wincing at the sunlight coming through the car windows you quickly covered your eyes with your arm. 

“Bucky.” You whined, head pounding. 

“I’m here doll.” Fingers moving soothingly against your back. He was whispering to you. You could feel you were in the back seat of the car, it was moving quickly. You felt nauseous. 

“I’m gonna be sick.” You groaned, he shifted you up slowly, sitting you upright in the back seat. 

“You definitely have a concussion.” Your eyes were squeezed shut as you heard him move around. 

“How’s she doing back there?” Sam’s voice came from the front seat. So he was driving. 

“Where’s Eric?” You asked as Bucky pressed his cold hand to the back of your neck. It felt so good. You placed your hand over it to keep it there. 

“We had medical take him back to the compound,” Bucky explained, “Where does it hurt?” 

You opened your palms and he could see the gravel embedded in them, knuckles split and bleeding from the fall. “Just my hands and head.” You couldn’t open your eyes. It hurt.

“We’re almost home,” Sam said from the front, “I’m gonna go check on the perps and see how Eric is doing. Buck, you think you can take care of her?” 

“Yeah, I got her.”

He’d lowered the blinds and threw a bandanna over the lamp next to your bed, creating an easy light for you to manage, finally being able to relax your eyes for the first time in what felt like hours. The chair next to your bed was wordlessly pulled close as he laid out a pair of tweezers, rubbing alcohol and some bandages. A little dish was there to collect the pulled gravel. 

“It’s almost like you’ve done this before,” You joked. Wincing as he pulled the first piece out. He scoffed, continuing on in his work. 

“I didn’t want you to go alone.” His gruff voice replied, “I told you I’d go with you.” You sucked your teeth as he pulled out a particularly large piece. 

“To be fair, you thought Eric was the threat.” He looked at you through his lashes. 

“I still don’t like the guy.” You hummed in response. “You know this means you can’t leave the compound by yourself anymore?” He gently dabbed your hands with the rubbing alcohol, before spreading a cream on them. 

“What could they possibly want with me?” You asked, “Who even are they?” He, with great care, wrapped your hands. 

“We don’t know,” He admitted, “Could be Hydra,” He shrugged, “Could be something else. We’re going to interview the two guys we captured, so I’m sure we will know pretty soon. Here,” He put two pills in your hand and a glass of water, “Take these and lay down.” He shifted the blankets around, slapping his hand against the pillows as he helped you get comfortable. 

“Don’t leave me.” Your wrapped hand gently gripped his. His other hand lay over yours, 

“I’m gonna be right back sweetheart.” Sleep was coming on quickly, “Get some rest. I’ll be back.” His hand softly slipped from yours and you slipped into sleep. “Sweetheart?” Bucky mumbled to himself. 

Bucky looked at you for a moment longer, lingering, before exiting the room. Face turning into a scowl he quickly took the elevator down, meeting Sam right outside of the interrogation rooms where they had the two perps cuffed in separate rooms, letting them stew. “They didn’t have cyanide capsules, so I don’t believe they’re Hydra.” Sam was staring at the monitors, arms crossed. 

“How’s the guy?” Bucky asked, Sam’s eyes shifted over to his quickly before turning back to the screens.

“He’s got some internal, but he’ll be fine… This isn’t your fault Buck.” Hand coming to rest on his shoulder, Sam turned to him. 

“No,” He growled, “It’s yours.” Shrugging his arm off him, “I wanted to tail them Sam. If you’d let me be there–”

“No.” Sam shook his head, “People still would have gotten hurt or these assholes wouldn’t have come out of the woodwork. Either way, you can’t tail her to go get coffee just because you think that dude is a shady guy for no other reason than your ‘intuition’.” 

“My intuition has never been wrong before,” Bucky leaned in, looking at the monitors. “No one knows she’s got Steve’s heart Sam. Even if they did, they don’t know what it’s doing to her. So what’s going on here. Why do they want her?” 

“I don’t know man.” Sam looked at his friend in concern. “You’re getting better with her.” Bucky nodded, chest tight. 

“I’m trying.” He cleared his throat, looking over at Sam. “I feel guilty.”

“You should.” Sam smirked, “So who’s gonna be good cop and who’s gonna be bad cop, cause I was thinkin’ it’s my turn to be bad cop.” Bucky rolled his eyes, dropping his jacket from his shoulders and rolling up his sleeves. 

“If I don’t get to hit at least one of ‘em I’m gonna hit you instead.” 

Wanda sat steadfast next to the sleeping man, fingers itching to do it. To look inside his mind. She had to know. Bucky was clear about how much he didn’t like this guy and she trusted Bucky. She can look, just take a quick peek. It would give her all the information she needed to make a sound decision on whether or not to trust him. 

A red tendril spilled over her palm, crawling down her fingers to slip into his temple. 

It was chaos. 

Screaming, blood. A nightmare. The fear, the anger. The loss. It felt so familiar. Like she’s seen this before, but she doesn’t know where. 

She sat back in her seat heavily, panting. The stress and anguish. Her heart was racing. She found no ill intention, but an immense attraction to you. She found exactly what you’d described. A man who had seen war, who had lost everything, she saw his mind as it was. Nothing to be hidden. So why did she feel so uneasy?

“Lock them up for the night.” Bucky instructed to the two agents standing guard outside the interrogation room. “Make sure they’re at opposite ends of the cells, we’ll be back to deal with them in the morning.” The two young cadets nodded, a ‘yes, sir’ and they were off to their task. 

“We’ll work on them tomorrow,” Sam looked at his watch. “Go check on Y/N, maybe get her to eat something.” Bucky nodded, hands on his hips. 

“Something doesn’t feel right about this.” The pair watched the two criminals be taken to their cells and locked in for the night before leaving, 

“There’s gotta be a leak.” Sam agreed. “I’ll call Clint.” Bucky hummed in agreement before walking away, deep in thought. 

“We should maybe reach out to Peter too.” He said as the two entered the elevator. “Have him keep an ear out when he’s patrolling.” 

You were right where he left you, the dim light giving a soft illumination to the room. He walked over to your side of the bed, brushing the hair out of your face before squatting to your eye level. 

“Hey Y/N,” He spoke softly, gently rousing you from sleep. His advanced eyesight scanned your pupils as your sleepy eyelids parted. 

“Bucky.” You whimpered, head throbbing. 

“I’m right here kid.” What was he doing? Fingers gently massaging your scalp stilled and awkwardly removed themselves. “Here, take these.” He helped you sit up, giving you two more of the tablets you’d taken earlier, following them with the stale water from your bedside. “Are you nauseous?” 

“No.” You croaked, sinking back into the pillows. “I’m sleepy.” Your throat felt thick and palms were itchy. 

“Alright, I’ll be right here okay?” The shuffling of the chair as he sat down heavily. He gave you one last look as you drifted off, 

“Okay.” Mumbled against the sheets. 

He pulled out his phone drafting a text to send to Peter Parker, 

suspicious activity in Brooklyn, focus patrol. all suspicious persons bring to compound. 

With a tap it was sent and he settled down deeply in the chair, fatigue hitting him for the first time in two days. “Peppermint oil.” Mumbled against the sheets, drool forming by your lips. “That’s sweet, the peppermint oil.” He watched you shift around until you were laying on your back, arm tossed over your head, one across your belly. His heart tight in his chest. 

It helped with asthma. The peppermint oil. A ventilation inhaler didn’t exist for another twenty years. Bucky made due. He kept it in his pocket everywhere he went in those days. Just in case. The thought made your heart sing, but it wasn’t your heart. It was Steve’s. 

It made Steve’s heart sing. 

He was sure to wake you up periodically, making you drink water, giving you more medicine, before sinking back into the chair next to your bed. Your own private watchman. If you weren’t hurting so badly you’d be enjoying the company, just because it was Bucky and the attachment Steve had to him, that was then passed down to you, was sated by it. 

The next morning it was as though nothing had happened, when it came to your injuries anyway. Your head was clear, hands had no mark when Bucky went to change your bandages. 

“How are you?” Wanda asked, pulling you into her arms.

“I’m fine,” You smiled, you looked to your right through the glass window where Eric was resting, “How is he?” 

She swallowed heavily, “He’ll survive.” She looked you in your eyes, oddly. “He’s been in and out throughout the night, he’ll need to stay for a few days but should be good to go by Monday.” You worried your lip,

“I owe him an explanation,” You sighed, “I feel terrible.” 

“You couldn’t have known.” Wanda defended, hand soothingly rubbing your arm. “We had no clue that someone was targeting you.” She seemed angry, “Nothing on our radar.” 

“Who is doing this?” You asked, looking up at your friend. She shrugged, 

“I’m going to go join them in the interrogation.” She said, “See if I can find out. Do you need anything?” You shook your head, eyes staring blankly at Eric’s sleeping form. She left. 

The door handle was freezing when you put your hand on it, turning to enter. A chair was set next to the bed, one that you sunk yourself down into. It was quiet in here, the slow melodic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound. 

His jaw was a mix of black and blue, a swollen eye, his right hand was bandaged where he had tried to fight back against his two assailants and failed. Guilt churned in your gut. Maybe you should have let Bucky come with you after all. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone. Then Eric wouldn’t be lying here with a morphine drip 12 hours out of surgery. 

“No self pity on my watch,” A groan from the bed, his split lip coming in a half smile. Your watery eyes met his. 

“I’m so sorry Eric I-”

“Hey,” His fingers twitched, hand moving dismissively, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from–” He groaned, shifting in the bed. You leaned forward, taking the bed’s remote and using it to sit him upright. He winced. 

“It’s not your job to protect me,” You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I’m sorry we were attacked. They were after me. It honestly–” You felt a fat tear roll down your cheek, “It is my fault.” 

The man in the bed studied you for a moment, “Did you tell them where we were?” He asked, “Did you tell them to attack us?” His bruised mouth never faltering in a smile. “You had no control over this.” 

“Still, I’m–”

“I know.” He smacked his dry lips, reaching a hand over for the water cup on his tray. You’d quickly grabbed it, bringing the straw to his lips. “So,” He rested his head back on the pillow, “Are you gonna tell me what’s really going on here?” He gestured vaguely to the tip of the thin pink scar that was peeking out from under your t shirt. 

You owed him an explanation. He’d taken an ass beating for you, it was the least you could do. 

-

A chill went down Bucky’s spine as Wanda told him the name of who was responsible. She knew the name in passing, an issue she’d never had a problem with. Something that happened adjacently to her, but she knew the name enough to know the man was dangerous. 

The trio thought to the couple sitting in the medic ward, Eric recovering from internal bleeding and you, who was still trying to figure out what was going on with your body, your heart. What would he want with you? What did he think he could possibly do with you? And also who was relaying this information to him? 

Sam put on his Captain voice, chest tight, shoulders back. There was tension there, and a lot of it. 

“Call Sharon Carter,” He commanded, “Tell her to come to the compound with all the information she can find on Helmut Zemo.”

Bucky thinks he’s going to be sick.


	7. seven

Helmut Zemo.

What do we know about Helmut Zemo? 

He was a former Colonel of the Sakovian Armed Forces. He lost his entire family during the Ultron ordeal in Sakovia. He was a former commander of the EKO Scorpion special forces. He hated the Avengers. He hated Steve Rogers. He planned an attack for a year, knowing he couldn’t take the Avengers on himself, he pulled a pin exactly where he knew it would make the tower fall. Bucky Barnes. 

He knew Steve Rogers would do anything to get Bucky Barnes back, the Winter Soldier hiding out in Romania, Captain America had been looking for him for a while. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Zemo. Framing Bucky Barnes took work, but it was necessary. He bided his time, finding the Winter Soldier’s handbook, setting a bomb. Finding the recording that would turn Tony Stark against Steve Rogers. Destroying that trust. Destroying two of the big three. 

But there he was, sitting in his cell at the Joint Counter Terrorist Center. 

“There were memories of Zemo approaching them.” Wanda explained. “Both in the same way, he came to them. Hired them.” Zemo was sitting on his bunk, reading. 

“I’m going to go down there tomorrow,” Sharon explained, “Make sure it’s actually him.” She looked to the people in the room. “If he’s somehow escaping or if this is someone else using a disguise… we’ll have a big problem on our hands. 

“EKO Scorpion was like Sokovia’s own private STRIKE team. A kill squad of the highest caliber. If he’s on the streets…” Sam continued, “We need to get him back off of them, by any means necessary.” 

The Avengers. Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, King T’Challa, Scott Lang, Clint Barton. And those were the ones currently on planet. 

Crime had been low since the blip in general. When half of the population disappeared people were more worried about picking themselves back up off the ground rather kicking other people while they were already down. After it was reversed there was chaos in bringing everyone back. Sure there were petty crimes, always. But nothing to the magnitude that Zemo could bring if this intel was true. 

No one outside this room could be trusted. 

“Not even Y/N.” Sharon claimed. Bucky bristled at the thought. They had to keep you in the dark on this. You could be a pawn in a bigger game. The more you knew, the less they could protect you Bucky reasoned. But Sharon was covering bases. It was what she was good at. You weren’t an Avenger. You weren’t an agent. 

“She’s a liability.” Sharon continued, “While Zemo still seems to want her she’ll stay on base and Bruce, you continue your testing, but I think it’s for the best that we still treat her like an outsider.” It makes sense. Bucky and Sam shared a look, Wanda visibly tensed in front of them. 

“She has nothing to do with this,” Wanda defended, “The attack-”

“We just need to cover all of our bases,” Sharon reiterated, “She came out almost completely unharmed from an attack with five men where she’s completely untrained. We still don’t know the capacity in which the heart is affecting her and until we do, we have to treat her like she’s a patient. Keep your distance.” She was not winning them over, “At least until we figure out more of what’s going on.” She nodded to Sam who stood from his chair, coming to the end of the conference table. 

“Zemo is dangerous,” Sam started, “Obviously, the dude has no moral compass.” His hands rested on the table looking at the group, “Sharon, you and Wanda are going to JCTC to meet with Zemo… get in his head, make sure he is who he says he is.” His eyes shifted to Peter Parker, 

“Pete you’re going to help Bruce here with Y/N, we have to expedite the testing unfortunately, Bucky and Clint will take the streets. Zemo has to have some sort of base nearby. Scott and I will be going through CCTV footage around the city and looking into old EKO Scorpion members.” He stood tall, hands on his hips, looking back to the monitors behind him, looking more like Cap than ever, “T’Challa is going to look through different avenues internationally looking into his old stomping grounds.

Alright, we all have our assignments. Let’s get it done.” 

“It’s not fair to her,” Wanda started, “Not letting her know what’s going on.” Bucky and Sam frowned in unison. 

“I don’t like it either,” Sam said, “But she’ll immediately know who Zemo is and she’ll know what kind of threat she’s up against. She needs to finish her testing, see what’s fully going on.” He stepped off the elevator onto the compounds resident floor. 

“She’ll hurt herself otherwise.” Bucky agreed. “We just have to keep her in the dark until we find out what exactly is going on here. None of us like it.” 

Wanda felt unsure if that really was the best avenue of defense, but didn’t really have much room to disagree. 

Bucky watched from the other side of the glass as you laughed, Eric was looking a little better today. The swelling had gone down a bit, the charming bastard was talking to you, closely. Your full attention on him as he told you a story about his youth. Head propped up by your hand, elbow on the armrest of the chair. You were enraptured. It gave Bucky a strange feeling in his chest. 

Something was off about this guy and Bucky couldn’t figure out what. Wanda cleared him. ‘No ill will’ was found in his mind, but he really liked you. That’s what she said to him. He didn’t feel comfortable with Eric getting close to you. He was unconsciously clenching his fists on the other side of the glass. 

“It was very embarrassing.” Eric laughed, “Here I was on my very first date with a girl, thirteen years old, and I threw up in the middle of the movie.” 

“I’m surprised you’d ever dated again.” You humored. You liked him. You did. 

When you had explained what happened to you, describing how in your chest rested the heart of the deceased Steve Rogers and you’d been experiencing his memories, he took it in silently. He really listened. Yes, you’d told Wanda everything. But Bucky and Sam were a different story. Bucky was a different story. He didn’t want to hear it, the one you wanted to talk to the most. 

He wasn’t ready, and that’s okay.

But Eric was. Eric was ready for whatever you had to throw at him. “It really makes you think about how the heart and the head really work together, huh.” He smiled. You’d vented to him, honestly. About how hard it was to have all of these friends who don’t know who you are. To have all of these heartstrings pulled every day. You’d told him about the research Bruce was doing. Only a little. Just enough for him to know that they were working on figuring out how to get the memories to stop, or at least manageable. 

You’d caught Bucky when he’d moved in front of the glass. He stood there for a moment watching before tapping two metal fingers against it and curling them towards him. C’mere. 

“I’ll be back.” You told Eric, removing yourself from the room. You could feel his eyes on you from his hospital bed from the other side of the glass. “What’s up?” You’d wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your cardigan closely around your body as you stood across from the super soldier. “Did you find out who they’re working for?” His face was tense, you knew that face. “What happened?” His eyes wouldn’t meet yours. 

So it was bad news. 

“I’m gonna have to go away for a bit.” He said. Your heart panged in your chest, “We’re going out to find who they are and what they want,” He glanced into the hospital room, Eric’s eyes steadily focused on the television there. “But I’m gonna be off compound for a bit.” You sighed, nodding, following his eyes into the hospital room. 

“When do you leave?” You asked. His eyes finally met yours, 

“In twenty.” You didn’t know what to do here, but you were happy he’d come to tell you. He cared enough to let you know that he’d be leaving. “You have my number in your phone?” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Yeah.” You breathed, the room feeling a little warmer.

“If you need anything,” He said, “I might not answer right away, but–”

“I understand.” He shifted awkwardly in front of you, eyes drifting to your feet. He seemed to be debating something. His hand slowly reached for your arm, gently pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly, resting his face in your hair. Your heart was racing, arms coming to wrap around him just as tightly.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Whispered softly in your hair, tears welling up in your eyes, you rolled them to the ceiling trying to stop them from falling, but it was useless. 

“How can I?” You let out a watery laugh, the hug ended and your teary eyes met his, “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He smirked, eyes betraying sadness, stepping back from you before turning and walking down the hall, giving you one last lingering glance as the elevator doors close. 

“What was that about?” Eric asked as you reentered the room. You pushed your hair out of your face, tucking the strands behind your ears. 

“Just leaving for a mission,” You sat back in the chair. “He just wanted to check in on me.” Eric nodded, picking at the sheet. 

“Should I be worried?” You laughed softly, heart aching. 

“We’re just friends, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smirked, 

“It was.” 

Peter Parker was energetic. The eighteen year old kid who just started college moved across the lab on a wheeled chair. Skating from one side to the other. You’d watched him do this at least four times before he spun in a circle fast enough to make you dizzy before his eyes met yours in the doorway, cheeks turning red. “H-hi.” He stuttered. 

“You must be Peter.” The young boy smiled, rolling his chair back to the desk with his feet. 

“Peter Parker, yeah.” You’d known of him. Spider-Man who turned out to be just a teenage boy. You’d never seen him swinging around NYC in person, but you’d seen videos. It was pretty cool. You’d also been told by Bruce that he was extremely smart, he was currently studying biophysics at ESU on a full ride. 

“I’m Y/N.” You sat in the rolling chair across from him. 

“Yeah, I know.” He said, “Well, like, recently they just showed us your picture so.” He swallowed, placing his hands on his knees. He cleared his throat, looking behind you as Bruce entered.

“You ready?” 

_“Okay so, if we use the two dollars I have saved and the three you have saved we should have enough.” Bucky counted the coins laid out on the table in front of the two of you. Water sat still on the stove behind him. The wallpaper was floral and cracking in some places._

_This was their apartment._

_Three potatoes sat next to the stove, ready to be boiled and buttered for dinner. The beef chuck Bucky had brought home earlier in the day sat wrapped in paper next to them. “What do you think?” Bucky was looking at you expectantly._

_God he is beautiful. Here domestic. His hair was soft, he hadn’t put any pomade in it, a soft curl on his forehead. Eyes bright and young. Soft blush pink lips smiling at you. At Steve._

_“I don’t know Buck,” You sighed, finger picking at the doily tablecloth. “I don’t think we should waste our money on it.” Money was hard to come by. Buck pulled long shifts at the canary, but Steve was scraping by selling funnies to the paper. They had just enough. This five extra dollars took a long time to collect and you—Steve—couldn’t justify spending it. Not on himself anyway._

_“Listen,” Bucky licked his lips, “You’re a really good artist, and this would get you some watercolors, a couple canvases, and a new sketchbook. You haven’t painted since your Ma passed buddy.” Your fingers were itching to do it. You wanted to. You did._

_“Nah Buck we should save it.” Bucky’s face fell, looking down to the table at their pile of coins. “Maybe use it to fix up some stuff around here. The radiator rattles and winter was coming. Should be enough to get it fixed.” Bucky nodded, moving some of the coins around before slipping them back into the coffee tin. Placing it in the cabinet he turned his back to Steve._

_“Just figured it’d make you happy is all.” Bucky mumbles, beginning to chop the potatoes into chunks._

_“I am happy Buck.”_

Your eyes focused, staring back at the picture of the tubes of paint on the screen in front of your face. 

“Doing alright?” Bruce’s voice came over the microphone in the machine.

You sigh heavily, “Yeah I’m fine.” 

“That wasn’t as bad of a reaction as you’ve been having.” Bruce explained. “Maybe your body is adjusting.” The bed moved, pulling you from the machine where Peter was waiting to unlock the plastic cage around your face, helping you sit from the bed. 

“Thanks Peter.” The teenager smiled, 

“No problem.” The two of you looked at Bruce who sat silently replaying the brain scan. “What do you think is happening Dr. Banner?” 

“Whenever a memory is triggered, one of Steve’s memories,” He started, “It triggers your amygdala and hippocampus just as your actual memory would.” His eyes met yours through the glass. “I’m going to start you on some seizure medication, I think that’s all we can do right now.”

Bucky stared at his phone. No notifications. But why would there be. There would probably be no reason for you to text him anyway. He hoped. No news is good news. Other than the steady updates from Sam of which direction the van carrying Zemo’s thugs had come from there was a fair amount of radio silence. 

Clint stood, hands on his hips in front of the counter at the coffee shop, “Okay Romeo,” the archer quipped, “Whaddya want?” Bucky rolled his eyes, 

“To find the base.” Clint gave him a steady glare before turning to the barista, 

“He’ll have a large black coffee.” It was cold today. Colder than it had been. Fall was finally settling in. Leaves crunched under his boots as he stared down the alley he’d saved you in just two days before. The guy, Eric, his blood was still smeared across the bricks, dried, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. 

“Got the guy good, huh?” Clint took a sip of his latte. Bucky nodded and Clint added, “A little too good.” Their eyes met.

“You can feel it too?” Bucky asked. Clint shrugged. 

“Something is off about it.” He crouched down to study the boot impressions on the ground. Distinctively looking at the soles and seeing all the thugs were wearing the same kind of boots. He took a picture with his phone. “The guy gets beaten within an inch of life, but Y/N barely had a hair out of place.” 

“So are you suspicious of Y/N or of Eric?” Bucky was defensive. He could never believe you had anything to do with this. Clint smirked, 

“She’s really friendly with you.” He stood, exiting the alley. “And Sam…. Wanda too.” The pair started in the direction Sam instructed them to follow. “Wanda trusts her, so I do too. That guy though…”

“You can feel it in your gut right?” Bucky asked. Clint nodded at him as he turned a corner.

“I can feel it in my gut.” 

“Wanda said he was clear, and you trust her.” That was what Clint said about you. The pair continued to walk, eyeing the security cameras on the corner. 

“She said he had no ill will towards Y/N, that doesn’t mean something else isn’t wrong with him.” So Bucky wasn’t crazy. He’d be sure to talk to Sam about it later, but for now, looking down at his phone he fought the urge to text you. To tell you to stay away from Eric. And maybe you would listen. If he’d asked you to do it for him. 

“How are you feeling?” Eric looked a little better. The swelling almost completely gone around his face, just bruises turning yellow and green. He smiled softly at you. 

“A lot better today.” Your fingers tightened around your phone as you settled into the seat, the tv ambling softly in the background. It’s only been a day but you missed Bucky. You always saw him at some point whether it was during a meal, the morning jog you’d begun taking up, or in passing in the hall. His absence was felt. 

“Good,” You smiled back. “Getting bored down here?” The handsome man shrugged. 

“It’s not so bad.” He gestured towards the tv, “I haven’t watched The Price is Right in a long time.” You hummed in response. 

“When do they think you’ll be out of here?” Eric shrugged,

“End of the week maybe,” He looked at you softly, “I was thinking,” Your heart skipped in your chest, “Maybe they need some extra help? I was a Master Sergeant in the marines. I’ve done tactical work. Strategy.” Oh. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m sure you can talk to Sam about it.” You offered. “He’s in charge of all that stuff.” You picked a fuzz ball off your leggings. 

Eric nodded, “I just wanna help find the guys who did this. Whoever is after you.” His warm hand enveloped yours, thumb rubbing soothingly. “It’s not fair…” He said softly, “The hand you’ve been dealt.” Your other hand gently lay over his, heart thrumming,

“It’s more than I expected honestly.” You shrugged, “I never thought I would live this long.”

_“It’s weird being here, right?” You asked. The hot breezes here in Wakanda made sweat drip down the back of your neck. It was warm here, warmer than where you just were. Bucky sat across from you, staring out into the lake in front of his hut._

_“Yeah,” His gruff voice was scratchy, fingers picking at blades of grass. His eyes met yours, “I never thought I’d live this long.” You nodded._

_“Neither did I pal,” the sun was setting over the horizon, “Thought we’d go home after the war.” You cleared your throat, “Settle down somewhere close, marry some dames,” Your throat felt tight, “Have kids.” Bucky nodded._

_“It feels like so long ago.” It was. It was so long ago. Bucky has just come back out of the ice last week. A small hydra cell that Steve, Sam, and Natasha had taken out just before receiving the call that Bucky was awake. And asking for him. You. Your heart fluttered at the thought._

_You missed him._

_“Things are different now, Buck.” You felt him tense next to you. Words unspoken. Your heart aching. “Just another obstacle to get through.” Bucky shook his head, laughing darkly._

_“The obstacle of me murdering innocent people you mean.” You sighed heavily, shaking your head._

_“It wasn’t—“_

_“It was.” Bucky stopped you. “It was me.” His fist clenched on the few blades of grass in his hand. “I did it. I did all of it. Whether I was in control or not their blood is still on my hands.” The guilt. The feeling of, I should have gone back for him. I should have went to retrieve his body. It sat heavily in your gut._

_“Bucky,” Your voice came out as a whisper, hand coming to rest on your friend’s shoulder, “You were a gun. Hydra made you that way, but you’re not that person. You’ve never—“_

_He scoffed at you, shrugging your hand from his shoulder, “I killed people before Hydra.” Standing to leave, “I killed Germans all over fucking Europe. Who knows if they really believed in what they were doing or—or if they were just dumb kids like us?” He ran his fingers through his long tangled hair, “I kept your hands clean Steve.” His eyes watery, “I kept your hands clean.”_

A soft jostle and you were back, sickening guilt in your gut. “Hey,” Eric looked concerned. “Are you okay? You kinda just… your eyes rolled back in your head.” You had a headache. 

“Yeah,” You breathed, “Just a memory.” Eric frowned, 

“What was it about?” You shake your head, 

“It doesn’t matter.” You stood from the chair, “I need to go lay down for a bit. I’ll be back later.” Eric sat back in his bed, studying you for a minute.

“You can talk to me, you know that right?” His voice calm. You nodded, 

“I’m gonna go take a nap.” The second you closed the door tears started rolling down your cheeks. The fucking guilt. Jesus the guilt. You’d felt it before. Every time you looked at the people Steve left behind you felt guilt, but this pit of despair in your stomach was making you nauseous. 

You had to find Sam. 

-

The Joint Counter Terrorist Center was in Europe. It had taken a few hours by jet to arrive but Sharon remembered it from where Zemo had first interviewed Barnes. Where he’d pulled the pin on the Avengers. He sat in a glass cell in a lower floor. Four guards stationed around at all times. They worked on four hour shifts staggered so once an hour a guard would be replaced. 

Even if you could figure out how to get out of the cell you’d have to get past four guards, get through six floors of high level clearance and make it off the grounds without being seen. 

“It should be impossible.” Sharon stated, “He shouldn’t be able to get out of here.” There were five camera angles, one on each side of the box and one giving an aerial view. Wanda examined them closely, looking from one screen to the next watching Zemo sitting on his bed watching the small television he’d been allowed. 

“I saw him,” Wanda said, “He told them where Y/N frequents and that he wanted her alive and unharmed.” Sharon looked at her friend, 

“Unharmed?” She asked. 

Wanda nodded, “Unharmed.” Zemo’s eyes shifted, looking directly at the camera Wanda had been looking into. A chill went down her spine. 

“Ready to go down?” Sharon started towards the elevator. Wanda nodded slowly, walking backwards to the elevator before the two took the six floors down to the containment area. 

The air was cold in here. Meant to make him slightly uncomfortable. No one really cared about convicted terrorist’s comfort. He sat idly in his cell, a Sokovian game show playing on the small tv. He didn’t look up when they entered. 

“It’s not often I’m given the pleasure of company,” He smirked, “Especially not two beautiful women.” 

Wanda felt uncomfortable in his presence. Her skin crawled. 

“Cut the shit Zemo.” Sharon’s authoritative voice spoke, “I’m sure you know why we are here.” Zemo’s eyes drug themselves from the screen, meeting hers. Smiling.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Wanda rolled her eyes, crossing her arms against the cold, or maybe to feel more distance between herself and Zemo. Red tendrils curling around her finger tips. 

“What do you want her for?” Sharon didn’t need to say who. The three of them knew who they were talking about. Zemo didn’t answer. Wanda reaches out to him, it looked like red smoke, billowing from her fingertips, entering through the quarter inch holes in the glass to curl around Zemo’s head. His devilish eyes grinning back at her as she searched. 

Her eyes widened and she hastily spoke, “It’s not him.” Zemo was gone. The man, whoever he was, laughed from behind the glass. The nanoskin he was wearing shifted as he pulled it from his face. The guards standing in the corners of the room pulled their guns, but not on the Zemo impersonator. On Sharon and Wanda.

-

“Hey,” You knocked gently on the office door. Sam looked up from the multiple screens he had in front of him. A man you knew as Scott Lang sitting at a desk adjacent with the same amount of screens. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” You shifted nervously. 

“Scott, you can take this for a minute?” Sam looked to his partner. Scott nodded, 

“Sure thing.” You could see a little black piece of tech sitting in Sam’s ear as he stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, hands coming to rest on your arms. You sighed heavily, eyes still watering.

“I just had another memory.” You whispered, “I’m just left with all this guilt.” Your head was pounding. “I don’t know what to do with it.” Sam nodded, understanding. 

“Steve’s guilt?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “I just—I don’t know how to not feel this.” You placed a hand over your heart. “It just hurts.” You shrugged dismissively, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you with this.” 

“You’re not bothering me with anything Y/N.” Sam sighed, “Listen, I’m not going to pretend like I have any clue what you’re going through but I know Steve—I knew Steve and he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.” Sam’s hands rubbed your arms comfortingly, “This guilt that you’re feeling he carried around with him wherever he went and I’m sorry that you’re burdened with this, but it’s good you’re willing to talk about it.” You wiped under your eye, “Go rest for a bit, maybe take a bath—“

“Cap.” The office door wretched back open, Scott’s panicked face on the other side. “We’ve lost contact with Sharon and Wanda.” You felt your heart stop as you looked back up at Sam. His face having gone serious. 

“Sam, where were they?” You asked, placing a hand on his arm. 

He wouldn’t look at you as he reentered the office, walking around to the computer screens where you could now see half of New York. A couple keystrokes and it shifted to a cell. A cell containing a man sitting and watching a small tv. “Is that Zemo?” You looked at the men for answers. Sam wouldn’t look you in the eye.

“Y/N please go to your room.” His stern voice, his Captain voice. You bristled with anger.

“What the fuck does Zemo have to do with this?” You remembered Zemo. Of course you remembered Zemo. Your memory would remind you of a news report. Steve’s memory however, reminded you of the vicious fight. The torn friendship. The guilt. The fucking guilt. Sam looked up at you from the screen.

“You don’t have clearance for this,” Sam’s eyes were apologetic but his voice still tough, “Go to your room.” You hated this. You really did. In a split second your brain decided for you, just go. Obey orders. That’s what Steve would do. You could do research in your own time. After all, you had Steve’s memories which means you had a lot of passwords too. 

That’s what Steve would do too.


	8. eight

He was there. And you were staring at him. He mimicked the way you were sitting. Hand over your mouth, slumped in one of the two armchairs in your room. Legs crossed. You’d looked up from the laptop that now sat closed on the small table and he was just there. Staring. 

You wish you could say it felt scary. You should be scared. Was he a ghost? Was he haunting this heart that sat heavily in your chest? It was pumping the blood that now flowed through your body. Eric had said something right?

Head and heart intertwined. 

He was haunting you. In more ways than one. Your mind drifted to Bucky. A text that went unanswered, 

**Wanda is missing. Are you okay?**

No response. He did say there would be some radio silence but you’d hoped he was only saying that just in case. You’d expected, foolishly, to be replied to. It’d been two hours. Eyes were sore from attempting to hack into the files on the Avengers server. You were searching for Steve’s memory now, it’s not quite coming to you and is proving your endeavor to be very difficult. 

“Tell me how.” You stated calmly. The soldier stared back at you, not answering. But as you uncrossed you’re legs he did too. As you crossed the other leg he mimicked, almost as if you were him. You were looking in a mirror. A perfect replica. 

Hand removed from mouth.

Sat back. 

Staring. Not answering.

You bit your bottom lip in nervousness, fingers tapping against your knee and he did the same. 

Maybe you were crazy. Maybe this isn’t real. It’s possible. Who knows what all of those seizures had done to your brain. And now, while they didn’t show extreme symptoms, the shaking of your pupils and your slacken body in a memory was still a seizure. Just not as extreme. 

Zemo. 

It had to be fucking Zemo. 

You didn’t know him yourself, but Steve has strong feelings about the man. You recall the security camera. Bucky’s vacant eyes staring back at you. A gunshot to the camera. Then pain. So much pain. 

Tony.

Your heart panged. What a waste. The anger, the resentment, the stubbornness. You’d wished Tony could sit and talk to Bucky. A conversation they never got to have. Steve didn’t expect Tony to forgive Bucky. How could you? But Tony would have been willing to try. After all, how much Stark tech had killed peoples Mothers. Wanda was an example of that. And she liked Tony in the end, more importantly she forgave him. 

That’s what mattered.

“Steve,” You whispered, “Please.” A buzz. A reply.

**I’m safe. Are you okay?**

_“How old are you again?” Tony asked. A smirk on his face. You’d just met the guy. You’d just saved New York with this guy. Now you were watching him stuff shawarma into his mouth, taziki smeared on his lips._

_“I’m 27.” Steve’s voice always sounded so terse. So formal. He didn’t get the joke. He never got the joke. It seemed like seconds later you were in a lab and Tony smirked, typing on what seemed to be glass. The buttons lighting up under his fingertips. Steve, you, sat awkwardly to the side. Watching him._

_“Okay lay your hands on there.” A flat glass surface next to the keyboard. You watched Steve’s large hands lay flat on the surface. His knuckles had scars on them. A freckle on the back of his left hand. But that couldn’t be right, you had a freckle in the same spot. The hands were scanned, a cool blue light passing over them. His hands flickering to look like yours for an odd moment._

_“Now your eyes,” Facing the screen you saw Steve’s strong jaw give away to your own, his cheekbones melting to yours, his eyes melting to yours. Until you were staring at yourself in the glass. Another scan._

_“You’re all set up Cap.” The tech genius smiled at you. Your heart clenched heavily in your chest,_

You were back. Blinking heavily. A shiver ran down your spine. The super soldier sat across from you silently. You slowly opened the computer back up, placing it on your lap before pulling the screen up. It came to you instantly. Overrides. Codes. Logins. Not even just yours, but Tony’s too. Had they been erased yet?

He nodded. Almost indiscernible. 

You typed in three quick words into the keypad. 

SGR—CLEARANCE LEVEL 0 

and files. So many files.

Steve was gone.

Bucky Barnes hated field work. Clint, he didn’t mind the sarcastic asshole, but right now he wanted to throttle him. A perp, the guy they followed from security camera to security camera, strapped down in a chair between them. They were waiting for him to wake up.

“You gave him too much.” Bucky’s voice growled, fingers hovering over his phone screen. Don’t double text, Sam had warned him before, makes you look desperate. But desperate how? You weren’t answering him and he needed an answer. Now. 

“If someone’s fat fingers hadn’t been covering the fucking side of the needle I would have known how much I was giving him.” Clint scoffed, taking a sip of the terrible motel room coffee. Bucky rolled his eyes. There had been a struggle, but in wrestling the guy down Clint had pushed the plunger down all the way instead of half. Now it would be at least another hour until he woke up. 

Why weren’t you answering him? He text you four minutes ago. You had to have seen it right? Maybe you were with Eric, but he hoped not seeing as it was now well after nine pm and you were usually sitting in the living area watching some sort of movie or reality game show on tv. But they were usually there for that. 

Peter.

He’ll text Peter. The spider kid will keep an eye on you. He draft a text, 

**Watch her for me.**

Simple. To the point. The kid replied within seconds, 

**Y/N?**

Bucky groaned, rolling his eyes again.

**Yes.**

Peter replied,

**Sure thing Sergeant Barnes.**

Good. Good. The kid will keep an eye and make sure Eric doesn’t cross a line somewhere. He wanted to do his own research on the guy. Sam has sent him a file not to long ago. One he scoured three times while the guy across from him slumbered on.

Eric was a first class Sergeant Master of the Marines. A Medal of Honor. Honorable discharge after the events of the blip. His story checks out. Wife is deceased. Passed away due to a plane crash, just like he said. New York City boy through and through. After the war he began working on bikes, he eventually got his house back where he now lives alone. He started going to the VA and volunteering at a homeless shelter on the weekends. The guy had a clean slate.

Too clean. 

Bucky was just as suspicious as before, maybe a little more now that he’s read the guys rap sheet. The man across from him started to murmur as your text came in.

**I’m okay.**

Three dots. Then another text. 

**I know about Zemo.**

The man across from him mumbled against the gag in his mouth. Bucky’s eyes dragging themselves from his phone to the man across from him, drool pouring from the corner of his mouth. Clint stood from his chair, sighing, placing his coffee on the table. 

“Alright,” He said, “Let’s get started.” 

What did Zemo want? You typed into the computer, the pass codes and areas to look coming seamlessly. Steve seemed to unlock something. Whether it was physical or mental you didn’t know, but you could do some serious digging now. 

King T’Challa was tracking down old members of EKO Scorpion. He’d found two today, living together somewhere in Africa. Tanzania? A safari mecca. Why would they have retired there? Were they really two Sakovians running a safari? They were currently being questioned but no news yet. 

Bucky and Clint had the other man who tried to assault you in custody. They were questioning him, but no news yet. 

Wanda and Sharon were still radio silent. You’d heard the Quinjet take off a few minutes ago and you were sure Sam and Scott were on it, heading out to the JCTC. You’d text her not long ago, Wanda. Asking her to respond. Please. Let me know you’re okay. 

Because maybe they ran into trouble, and maybe they’ll sort it out. You checked your phone again. No text from Bucky or Wanda. It was giving you anxiety. But there was nothing you could do about it. For now.

The morning found you exhausted, having spent most of the night waiting for updates to be loaded onto the private server. None came other than the notification that Sam and Scott had reached their destination. 

A text from Bucky had been waiting for you once you had woken up from four hours of sleep, a simple…

**I didn’t want to worry you.**

But you understood why they didn’t tell you. Not because they didn’t trust you, but for this exact reason. 

You’d always been very independent. Your Mom said as a child it was if you never even needed her. You’d always kind of found your own way, even as your heart began to fail. Maybe there was something in Steve, something in this heart, that was amplifying how you felt about this, and you knew that maybe you wouldn’t be able to actually fight Zemo yourself. Not like Steve could fight him. But you could help. 

If he wanted this heart he’d have to rip it out of your own chest. But he didn’t want the heart, probably. Bruce said you had some sort of watered down serum right? You could do all of the things Steve could but your body couldn’t recover. Would it stand to say that your blood could be taken, samples of serum, and recreated? Possibly. Probably. 

A mask was on your face, you were running on a treadmill in the lab, Peter Parker standing off to the side watching your vitals as Bruce poured himself another cup of coffee. The speed of the treadmill was steadily increasing. The little wires that are connected to the electrodes placed on your chest and temples bounced as you ran. 

Your mind was racing just as fast as your legs were pumping. After this, after this test you’ll check again. You’ll go on and see. Maybe Bucky has text you again. You’d asked him for an update, hoping he’ll give you one. Then you’ll stop by to see Eric for a little bit. 

“Alright, the cool down.” Bruce said, Peter tapped a few keys and the treadmill began to slow. It was specially designed for the super soldiers. Reaching upwards of 60 mph. Today you did half that, 30 mph, with seemingly no ill side effects. Your legs burning as a normal workout would. You chugged a bottle of water, stepping off the treadmill as results showed on the screen. Bruce leaning over Peter’s shoulder to look at them. 

“How are we looking?” You asked as you caught your breath. Bruce nodded, 

“Looking good, are you feeling any pain at all?” You kicked one leg out and then the other while Peter carefully removed the electrodes. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” 

“This is so weird.” Peter laughed. You gave him a weird look, “Just like…” He stuttered, “You getting all of these enhancements from this heart y’know? Like before you couldn’t even live a normal life, and now you could run 30 miles an hour.” You smiled at the kid, 

“For sure.” He smiled back, placing the electrodes down and turning back to Bruce. 

“Lunch time?” He asked. Bruce nodded, still typing into the computer. 

“I’ll be down in a minute.” 

The swelling in Eric’s face was almost completely gone. He was set to be discharged tomorrow, then life would go back to almost normal. He was filling out an application to be a field agent. A recruit. He seemed hopeful.

“Is this really something you want to do?” You asked him, sipping on a cup of hot tea. He nodded, typing a few more keystrokes. 

“You never really leave it.” He says, “I did two tours, now I sit around and listen to people criticize me because their car keeps making the same noise after I fix something else. I want to make a difference again.” Your phone buzzed on the table beside you, Bucky. Eric’s eyes were on you intently as you read the text, 

**Zemo is probably still here in NY. Stay on compound.**

Your thumbs hovered over the keypad, before typing a quick reply.

**Okay, have you heard from Sam?**

Three dots, then they disappeared. Three dots again.

**Not yet.**

Was he lying to you? You sighed heavily, 

“Everything okay?” Eric asked you. You nodded, not looking up from your phone debating whether or not to answer. You had to get back into the computer logs. You darkened the screen, slipping the device into your pocket. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You smiled, Eric shifted uncomfortably in his bed, nodding seriously before submitting the application. 

“I think this will be good for me.” He said softly, “I’ve been lost since Jess died.” His wife. “Maybe this will help me get that structure back.” He looked at you with soft eyes, “Maybe it’ll help me finally move on.” A hand placed over yours and his calloused thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand. You lay a hand over his, 

“I hope so Eric.” He raises your hands to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of them. A knock on the glass and you looked up to see Peter gesturing towards his watch. The break was over. The heat on the back of your neck increased, not knowing how long Parker had been outside of the hospital room. 

“If you’re not too tired tonight,” Eric began. “Maybe you can come down here and we can have dinner together?” A grin, dimpled cheek that made your heart skip a beat. 

“Sure,” You smiled, standing from the chair, “I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

Sharon Carter was resourceful. The CIA agent turned Avenger confidant likened herself to her great Aunt in that way. Peggy taught her to be resourceful. “Men will underestimate you because you’re a woman, take that to your advantage.” Always. It was an unspoken plan, once what was supposed to be an interrogation turned on its head, that the two women would let themselves be captured. 

Maybe they’d be lucky enough to be taken to Zemo. If there was a threat of death or injury they’ll rework the plan then, but for now they were just being held in the cell that the impersonator once occupied. Sitting. Waiting. Watching the impersonator, a bald man ones the subordinate soldiers were calling Markus. 

Markus, was on the phone. 

His eyes drifting back to the glass cage the two women sat in he spoke quickly in Zemo’s native tongue. Wanda was able to pick out bits and pieces, she knew he must have been talking to Zemo. Partially about their capture and partially about what to do next. He seemed… nervous. 

“What is he saying?” Sharon asked, mouth imperceptibly moving, quiet, hushed. Wanda stopped her pacing, focusing in on what Markus was saying to the person on the other line. 

“He’s asking if he should relocate us,” Wanda said, “Or if we should be terminated.” Her hands gripped her elbows tightly. It wasn’t as if the two women couldn’t get themselves out of this situation. They had been radio silent for almost 24 hours now, Sam would surely be on his way if he wasn’t already. But that aside they were more than capable of taking out the five henchmen. Guns or not. But when would be the right time? 

A glint in his eye and he turned back to face the two women, signing off, “Hail Hydra.” And ending the call. Wanda’s brow furrowed. Hydra? There had been little to no sign of the organization since the fall of SHIELD ten years ago. Was this what Zemo was doing? Rebuilding? 

“We gotta get out of here.” Wanda stated calmly to her friend. Sharon looked up at her from her spot sitting on the bed and nodded. 

“It’s time to go.” The whole building went dark, the soldiers letting out a yell in shock. The building’s alarm lighting coming on. A red glow around the ceiling and floor as a shield spun out from the doorway, immediately knocking two men on their asses. Sam’s wings tight against his back, the red and white uniform stark in the dark room, he caught the shield and placed it on his back. Scott grew full size knocking another two down as the cell door hissed open. Markus backed himself against a wall, fumbling for the gun his counterpart dropped. Wanda quickly reached out, red tendrils wrapping around his body and flinging him unconscious across the room. 

“Took you long enough Cap.” Sharon breathed, stepping down from the cell. Sam pressed a button on the side of his mask, the front peeling back from his face. 

“Thought you had it handled.” He looked around the room where Scott was linking the goons up with electromagnetic handcuffs. 

“We were just about to break loose.” Wanda defended, “He was on a call with Zemo.” She gestured to the man she was now pulling back towards them, pulling the phone from his pocket. “It seems as though Zemo is bringing back Hydra.” Sam’s joking demeanor suddenly turned serious, taking the phone from Wanda’s hand he turned it over in his palms. 

“I think it’s time we have another meeting.” 

_“Do you miss them?” Peggy asked. Her head on your chest, fingers playing idly with the buttons of your sleep shirt. It was a silky thing. One she’d bought from Macys and had SGR embroidered on the pocket. You really didn’t like them, seemed a little too old fashioned when you were used to sleeping in joggers and no shirt at all. Your large hand grabbed hers, wedding band shining on your finger._

_“Every day.” Steve’s timbre filled the quiet room, “I missed you though.” He shrugged, “I was going to miss someone either way. It just… this is what I always wanted.” Wasn’t it? Her soft lips pressed to yours, red lacquered nails scratching at your scalp as you deepened the kiss. Lips parting to breath she said,_

_“Do you regret coming back?” Silent for a beat. And then another._

_“No.” But it felt like a lie._

It had only been two days since you’d seen him. Two days without Bucky. But once you’d heard he was coming back to the compound, that there was another team meeting your heart began to race in prospect of seeing him, hands trembling as you stepped off the treadmill the next morning. Everyone had gotten back last night. Wanda made a quick appearance in your room, just to tell you that she was okay and that you had nothing to worry about but you knew when she was lying to you. 

You had a lot to worry about. But your main worry was hacking into the video and audio feed of the conference room during their meeting later. 

“Hey.” It was like music. The raspy voice, the soft notes reaching your ears. You were still huffing a little, 35 mph today. His large figure stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. The scruff on his face hadn’t been touched in a couple days and it sent a shiver down your spine. You bit your bottom lip,

“Hey Sergeant Barnes!” Peter smiled and waved from his seat in front of the monitor, “How are you today?” Bucky looked at him strangely, 

“Uh… fine. Thanks.” Eyes moving back to you.

“Hey,” You smiled, walking over to him and immediately pulling him into your arms. He stiffened before slowly relaxing, wrapping his arms around your waist in return. “Are you okay?” You whispered. He nodded against your shoulder, 

“M’fine.” A little sway side to side. A cleared throat behind you, 

“Hey Buck.” Bruce waved as the two of you parted awkwardly. Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets, giving the green giant a nod.

“How’s she doin’ Bruce?” Your heart skipped a beat and you tried to quell the excitement of his actual concern for you. You didn’t pay attention to much else in their interaction. The super soldier’s hair was too distracting. He needed a haircut. Maybe not a shave, but definitely a haircut. It was growing too long on the sides. His blue eyes met yours and you shake your head slightly to keep yourself from staring. 

Chill the fuck out Steve. 

You rolled your shoulders back trying to release some tension in them. “I’ll see you after the meeting?” He asked, going to leave the room. You nodded in response, 

“Yeah,” You cleared your throat, “I’ll see you then.” He gave you a strange look, smirked and then left. A deep sigh leaving your chest as you looked back to Peter and Bruce who were pointedly looking at the monitor, “So what’s next?” 

“So Zemo is trying to bring back Hydra?” Bucky asked, a chill down his spine. His left arm suddenly felt very tight. The nerves and gears locking up. Wanda sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes. 

“It looks that way.” Sam paced the front of the conference room. 

“What could they possibly do?” Scott asked, “They’d have to start all over infiltrating different organizations and–”

“They could have had sleepers already.” Clint offered. “An organization that big had to have a backup plan.” Bucky’s eyes darted around wildly on the desk, trying to recall anything that could be useful. His eyes snapped up to the surveillance camera, eyes attaching to yours through the screen. You wondered if he knew what you were doing or if it was just a coincidence. They continued on,

“I’m going to keep investigating what is going on here in Tanzania,” King T’Challa’s voice ran through the room, his hologram off to the side of where Sam was standing, “It would be foolish to believe that these associates have nothing to do with the revival of Hydra.” Sam nodded, agreeing. 

“We have a couple of people here to interrogate, five to be exact.” Sam nodded to Bucky and Clint, “What did you get from your guy?”

“He was approached via video call, he said he never saw Zemo face to face.” Clint looked to Bucky before continuing, “Considering he doesn’t have fingernails at the moment I feel inclined to believe him.” Sam groaned, rubbing his temples before beginning to pace once more. 

“We’ll interrogate these guys, see what we can get.” Sam started, “Hopefully one of these leads will take us somewhere, in the meantime–” 

The screen behind him fuzzed, as did the screen on your laptop. It seemed to flip through different channels, before settling on one. A man. In a purple mask. He wore a dark coat and what looked like leather gloves. 

“Zemo.” You breathed. The eyes. You remember those eyes. They stared into yours, no Steve’s, as he said there was a flaw. A bit of green in the blue of your eyes, if you remember correctly. 

“Hello Y/N.” He addressed you directly, “I hope all is well and you’re feeling better.” He shifted in his seat, getting more comfortable. “I’m going to give you something you want and in return I will get something that I want.” You brought your hand up to your mouth, unsure of what he’s about to say, 

“You see, your life hasn’t been easy hmm? Your parents are poor, you’re swimming in debt in the medical bills that bankrupt them. This thing you’re doing right now, where the Avengers are taking care of you, how long do you think that’s really going to last?” His eyes were dead on yours. It made you very uncomfortable. Like he knew exactly where you were in the room as you placed the laptop on the coffee table and began to pace, maybe he did,

“I can make all of it disappear.” He offered, “And all I want from you is a little meeting. I just want one vial of your blood and I will change your life forever.” You could feel your heart stop. Blood rushing through your ears. “They don’t care about you.” A pit opened up in your stomach. “As soon as they make sure that you’re not going to die they’ll drop you right back off in your shitty little apartment to be forgotten forever. This is your chance to make a difference, to do something extraordinary for the future of mankind.” You stopped pacing, watching the screen with your cold hands on your face. 

“You could change everything, just like I could change everything for you.” He leaned forward, getting closer to the screen. “I’m looking forward to hearing from you.” The call cut out and Bucky burst through the door to your room, staring at you in silence for a minute, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to do. What the fuck just happened?

“Y/N.” He panted, you could feel the seizure coming on, strong this time. But you didn’t feel your body hit the floor, because it didn’t. Bucky wouldn’t let you.


	9. nine

_The wind was howling, it rattled the shutters, the windows creaking and groaning in protest. Bucky had tried the caulk the windowsill shut but it hadn’t worked. The two young men were huddled around the small stove, door open and slowly giving off heat to warm them._

_“Here we go.” Bucky rubbed his dry hands together, breath coming out in little puffs in front of his face. He sat heavily down next to you, draping an arm around your shoulder as the gas for the stove finally kicked on, the heat pouring out steadily. You were wrapped in two blankets, one thrown over Bucky’s lap. You wore a winter coat, a hat, glove covered hands twisted tightly in the hand knit blanket that your mom, Sarah, had made you that last winter before she was gone._

_“You can go home Buck.” You whispered, curling into him further. “Heat’s never off at your house.” Bucky scoffed, his own head covered with a thick wool hat, scarf pulled up around his rosy cheeks._

_“And leave you here to freeze?” Bucky glared at you playfully, “I told you we could both go, but you’re too proud for that. I’m not going if you’re not.” You sighed heavily, Bucky’s arm pulling your shoulder in tightly, your cheek buried against his chest._

_“You think my Ma is making beef stew tonight?” Bucky asked quietly. Your stomach growled at the thought, eyes dropping in exhaustion. You’d just gotten over another cold. How would pneumonia help you?_

_“Maybe…” You shifted against his chest, “Maybe we should go see.” Bucky grinned, laying a fat wet kiss to your cheek before helping you from the ground and turning to stove off, shutting the door with his foot._

_“Let’s go.”_

_…_

_“Let’s go.” You said. The exit ramp of the Quinjet lowered, the wind howling against the sides of the ship. A hand met your shoulder and you turned._

_Bucky looked haunted here. A few seconds ago when you were in the shared apartment he looked so much less hollow. Less scarred._

_“Are you sure you want to do this?” Leave all of your new friends. Betray Tony. You had to. This was Bucky. And you trusted Bucky. More than anything. And if what he said was true then there were five more guys just like him waiting behind this reinforced door they were about to walk up to._

_“Til the end of the line Buck.” He choked, not looking at you for a moment, his hand gripping your shoulder tightly. He shook his head,_

_“I’m not worth all this Steve.” But you’re worth everything to me._

_Everything._

_…_

_“I’m gonna go back.” Your breath caught in your throat. It felt thick in this room. Unbreathable. Bucky looked at you sadly from across the small dining table in your apartment. The funeral was yesterday._

_“When you take the stones?” His voice was unwavering. Not betraying the emotion his eyes were giving you. Your heart was breaking._

_“Yeah,” You breathed, “I… I don’t belong here, I can have this second chance…” the words felt empty. How could you do this?_

_What about my second chance? Bucky should say. I don’t get a second chance. He should be screaming. Please scream at me. Please._

_“You’re goin’ back for Peg?” He asked you very calmly. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. You felt yourself nod. Beg me to stay. Please beg me to stay._

_“I love her Buck.” But I love you too. Please. Do something. Anything. Bucky nodded, standing and stepping away from the table, turning his back to you for a moment._

_“Sam should get the shield.” He said. Shoulders tense, he didn’t turn back to you. “If you’re gonna do this, Sam deserves it.” You felt yourself nod, wringing your hands together. It was silent for a beat. Then a beat more. “So this is the end of the line?”_

_…_

_A fist meets your face, your head snapping back, neck cracking from impact. You stumble, fists coming up, swinging back. Making contact._

_“Captain America.” The thug spat blood. “You’re much smaller in person.” The guy was a giant. Had to be on the higher end of 6’7 and pushing 400 lbs. all muscle. Slow. And dumb. Evaluate Rogers. Take him down._

_You moved quickly, shield spinning to ricochet off the wall to hit him from behind making him stumble forward, your leg kicking him in the chest and stunning his lungs, fist coming to crack against his jaw and the man fell to the floor unconscious as you caught the shield._

_Footsteps from above and a voice over the coms, “What about that new agent? What’s her name?” Natasha. Fucking Natasha._

_“How am I supposed to know?” You grunted as you rolled the man over to grab a key card from his pocket._

_“Sarah!” She yelled in triumph, “She seems very vanilla.” You didn’t know what that meant but,_

_“Sarah was my Mother’s name so… no thanks.” You swiped the key card for the room you were in, the mechanical door hissing and opening. This base. You remember it from other memories. The thought coming to you as Steve takes you room to room. Silently dispatching whoever is in his way. A thumb drive. It’s always some stupid little thumb drive that could totally dismantle an organization._

_But this was Hydra._

_And this little thumb drive was a piece of a greater puzzle, and you didn’t have the picture on the box to guide you. This base. Why was it so familiar?_

_Something was striking you as you forced Steve’s eyes to take one last look around the room._

_There!_

_Right there!_

_A black and white photo from a newspaper. One you’ve seen before. A man and two others. Holding guns in military uniform. The man’s face in the middle circled in red._

_Zemo._

You groan. Head pounding. Eyes glued shut. There was a rhythmic beeping. A heart monitor. You could feel little electrodes stuck to your face and chest. The blanket over you was yours though, not the scratchy one you knew was used in the medical ward of the compound. Your eyes slowly opened, trying to shake the exhaustion out of them, your eyes focused in the dim room on your ceiling. 

This was your room still. 

You felt sluggish, eyes rolling shut before opening slowly. You turned your head to see Wanda dozing off in the chair beside you, a second chair empty to her left. 

Your heart monitor was on her right, along with a machine that was tracking your brain activity. One you’d seen used before during your many tests Bruce liked to run. The blinds were open, the early morning light shining through.

A glass of water was on your night stand, two little white pills beside it. Your hands found purchase beneath you and your arms shook as you pushed yourself up against the headboard. Wanda snoozed on, cheek pressed against her fist. 

You shakily grabbed the water, taking a sip before taking the two pills and chugging the glass, the thirst you were feeling not even close to being quenched. You sat back heavily, fingers still wrapped around the glass as you thought back to what caused you to be in this position right now.

Zemo.

Fucking Zemo. 

You know you can’t trust him. He wants what? To rebuild Hydra? A greater tomorrow? Sure. For certain people a greater tomorrow. The ones so struck by their fear and ignorance that they’d strike down anyone different than them just to have control. 

He’d get rid of your medical bills. 

Your parents would be financially stable again. You’d be financially stable for the first time in your life. You could move on. You could travel. You’d always wanted to travel.

These people, Wanda. Sam. Bucky.

Bucky.

Would they really care about you after all this was over? It’s been almost two weeks since you’d come to the compound. These were superficial friendships to be sure. Coworker friendships. Once you’d left you’d be forgotten. Right now they were taking care of you. But was it only because of Steve? Your hand lay over the scar on your chest.

Your heart was breaking. 

Steve’s emotions were fully infused with your own. You loved these people. These people who you barely knew but you knew entirely. These people you’ve fought beside and haven’t. You didn’t know where Steve began and you ended anymore. 

The memories the year before you came here were once in a blue moon. Something would strike you and then you would tumble into a memory. Something Steve would show you. Since being here they were daily and sometimes multiple times a day. Who were you anymore?

You look at your hands and you could swear for a moment they weren’t even yours. 

Zemo wants your blood for obvious reasons. Even the watered down generic super serum that you’d been getting the effects from ran you at half capacity for Steve’s abilities. If Zemo got his hands on it surely he’d be able to isolate the serum and enhance it. 

He didn’t want old Winter Soldiers. He wanted new ones. Ones he’d formed himself. One maybe he could become himself.

“Y/N.” Wanda’s voice was soft, sleepy. Her hands came to take the glass from you. “How are you feeling? You’ve been out for a little over a day.” Your voice was raspy, throat still dry.

“I’m okay.” You shifted in bed, looking at her, unsure, “Where’s Bucky?” You remember him being the last thing you saw before you’d entered your seizure. His arms catching you before you hit the ground, cushioning your head in his palm. His mouth forming your name, but your ears not hearing it. 

The empty chair, Wanda looked at it for a second before replying, “He’s taking a shower, he’ll be back in a minute. Are you hungry?” You were ravenous. 

“Yeah, I could eat.” She came back with a spread a moment later. Breakfast plate stolen with what looked like Sam’s cooking. He must have been up making breakfast already. 

“What happened during your seizure?” She asked. You swallowed the fork full of eggs before replying,

“I had four memories.” Four of them. So cold. Freezing temperatures in each one. But you know that couldn’t have been entirely true. Steve told Bucky he was leaving in autumn. But it felt like you were sitting in an ice box. Something wasn’t right there. 

“Hmm.” She picked at her fingernails, “What do you think of Zemo?” Her voice was soft, like she already knew, she had to. But she was asking anyway. 

“I can’t.” You shook your head, “No matter how quickly he could make my problems disappear…” Your fingers rolled a piece of fuzz between them, fork lay discarded on the plate. “I feel like it would make an even greater mess of things.” Wanda nodded, shifting back in her seat. 

“Do you think–” The door clicked open, Bucky shuffling in quietly and catching your eye almost immediately, his blue orbs widening. 

“You’re awake!” A soft smile. It warms your heart. He looked to Wanda, handing her a cup of coffee he’d prepared for her before sitting down in the chair beside her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, how are you feeling?” Your heart skipped a beat. A shadow in the corner of your eye and there was Steve, but he wasn’t looking at you. Forlorn eyes stared at Bucky. Your breath hitched, 

“I’m okay, thanks.” Your heart began to race as you felt Steve’s eyes move to you. A chill ran down your spine. A fucking ghost he was. Bucky sipped his coffee, the strong black brew permeating it’s scent through the room. Bucky kind of always smelled like black coffee now that you thought about it. “How are you?” 

“I’m good.” He cleared his throat, “Listen, I don’t know how you feel about Zemo and–”

“I’m not gonna do it Buck.” Your voice tense. His face serious suddenly. He nodded. 

“Okay.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.” Wanda placed her coffee mug on the end table. 

“But I think we should pretend like you are going to.” She said. “If Zemo thinks you’re going to give in we could lead him into a trap.” Fingers circling the rim of the coffee mug. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” You agreed. “We should talk to Sam and–”

“We aren’t using you as bait.” Bucky scoffed, turning to Wanda, “We aren’t using her as bait.” You and Wanda share a look. 

“We’ll see what Sam says.” You nod to Wanda. She takes a long drink of her coffee, 

“I’ll give you two a minute.” You watched her back as she left the room, shutting the door silently. 

“Buck-”

“Y/N-” 

You talked over each other, then silence. Both of you staring at one another. “You’re not going to be used as bait.” He started, “It’s not– You’re not–”

“Bucky.” You lay a hand over his, the hand beneath you rough and calloused. More so than you remembered, but knuckles still split, some still healing. “Whatever it takes… Zemo is a threat. You know better than anyone that he’ll do whatever he thinks is necessary to get what he wants.” His blue eyes not leaving yours, it was intense and made you nervous, “He’ll come for me whether we do this or not.”

“So let him come for you, you’re at the fucking Avengers compound for christ sake.” He stood from the chair, stepping back to pace. “There’s a whole army worth of people here to keep him out.” He ran his metal fingers through his cropped hair, exasperatedly. 

“Buck… I can do this. I may not fully be like Steve, but I’m half capacity at least. I can–”

“You don’t know how to use it, you’ll get hurt, you can barely defend yourself.” 

“So show me!” You yelled, “I know all of his moves,” You tap your temple, “They’re all up here, I just need the practice.” Bucky shook his head, hands coming to his hips. 

“It’s not safe,” He spoke evenly, “You’re not Captain America, Y/N.”

“No.” You sat back heavily against the pillows behind you, “I’m not, but this guy is bigger than me and you. This is about possibly saving the world and I get it, we don’t trade lives, but I can hold my own against a couple thugs,” His eyes met yours once more, a softness there, “Let me try.” He stepped closer to the bed,

“It’s not worth you getting hurt.” He said softly, fingers brushing yours. Your heart skipped. 

“Show me how to not get hurt and I won’t.” You intertwined your fingers, both of you looking at your joined hands. Your heart fluttering in your chest, butterflies in your stomach, “Please… Jaime.” 

He snatched his hand from yours quickly, taking a step back, eyes rapidly searching yours. Your heart dropped, “I’m sorry… Bucky.” You tried to grab his arm again but he stepped out of reach, a pang in your chest and your eyes began to water. “Bucky, please.”

“Don’t.” His voice tense, shaky, “Just don’t.” And he left. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

Bucky stomped down the hallway, turmoil bubbling in his chest as he reached his room, slamming the door shut. The hinges screamed in protest. His fingers an imprint on the side of the door. He gripped the short hair on his head and pulled, letting out a clenched teeth scream in aggravation, sitting on the end of his bed and resting his elbows on his knees. 

Jaime. 

Steve had called him that once, and only once… and that means you’ve seen… He shakes his head. Fuck. His breathing is heavy, heart aching in his chest as he remembers how Steve left. 

Steve left him. 

Even though they could try. It was different now, times were different now. But Steve left. Steve left him. He made a choice and he chose to leave him. He couldn’t fault Peggy. He couldn’t be angry with her for getting to keep Steve. Getting to love him. But the jealousy was there. And this feeling brewing in his chest at the sight of you, left him empty and wanting. 

And confused.

So confused. 

You were this soft enigma in his life. This worried presence. He didn’t know how to act around you half the time, the other half it was just like taking care of Steve all over again. But it wasn’t. It was you. You knew things about him no one else did and it was easy to forget until something like that spilled from your tongue. 

Jaime. 

He could almost feel Steve’s lips against his again. In that tent. Right after he’d been rescued. The desperation. The love. A chill goes down his spine. He could feel eyes on him, but when he looks around he sees nothing. It’s just him, alone in his room. The empty walls and bland neutrals he didn’t care to dress up. A pile of clothes on the chair of his desk he had yet to put away and a laptop haphazardly placed on the coffee table next to a pile of notebooks. 

Memories.

Confirming kills. 

Planning on things to bring up in therapy next week. Planning on things to avoid. And in that pile of notebooks is a new one, a red cover. You. Everything he knew about you. Every detail of your life. Every hospital visit, every heart failure. The names of the hearts before Steve’s. The people your body rejected. Your family. Your parents who lived in a two story house in New Jersey. They have two dogs. Your grandparents live with them. Your Mom works at a doctor’s office in the city. Your Dad is a barber. You don’t have any siblings. 

It’s why your parents had banked so much on you and you avoided them when you failed. 

Bucky remembers the jab he’d taken when he first met you. “So what are you going to do with your life now? Now that you have this second chance?” He regret it as soon as it left his dumb mouth. He’d really lost his touch with women. He’d watched you curl in on yourself, the disappointment and failure you’d felt amplified by the knowledge that he knew you weren’t important. 

Not at the time anyway. 

You were so important now. Bucky’s heart panged with the thought. It was the third time he’d seen you in a situation he couldn’t help you in. The first seizure in the coffee shop, the second when he’d walked into your apartment and saw your destroyed legs, and now with a seizure that seemed to never want to end. Bruce had been worried about brain damage. Luckily you were fine. 

But you weren’t fine. 

Bucky flipped through the red notebook. A picture of you smiling back at him. An article from a newspaper, tubes connected to you as they announced that after fifteen years you’d finally gotten a new heart. A little fluff piece in the local paper he’d kept after they were informed about Steve’s donation. The first time he’d actually seen you aside from the funeral. 

He felt all choked up. He needed to talk to Sam before you did. He had to come up with some other plan. There had to be a way to get to Zemo first. Without using you as bait and without waiting for Zemo to come to them. There had to be some sort of Plan C. 

…

“He passed the polygraph.” Sharon stated, “He excelled on the obstacle course and in hand to hand he held his own.” Arms crossed as they watched him, sitting on the other side of the two way mirror. Sam stepped into view beside her, mimicking her stance. 

“What do you think?” Sam asked her.

“He might be a valuable asset.” She said optimistically.

“Bucky’s not a fan of him.” 

“Bucky isn’t a fan of anyone,” Sharon scoffed. Sam shrugged, nodding. 

“Have him start in the morning, take him down to the barracks.” She placed papers in a folder in front of her, shuffling and organizing them as Sam continued, “Let Eric Josten know he’s welcome on the team on a trial basis.” 

Eric, your Eric, sat on the other side of that glass. A grey Avengers t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest, the polygraph machine still laying in the off position in front of him. 

“Bucky really isn’t going to be happy.” Sam said to himself, exiting the interrogation hall and pressing a button to call the elevator. As he waited he contemplated how he was going to break the news to Bucky. Tomorrow was typically their day with the cadets so he had to do it tonight, but when tonight? Maybe after Bucky has eaten two full pizzas he might be sleepy and more compliant than with an empty stomach? Or maybe a text as Bucky’s about to fall asleep so maybe he wouldn’t see it until the morning even though technically he’d told him the night before?

“Sam.” Wanda entered the elevator beside him, “I need to talk to you about Y/N.” Sam hit the close door button, the elevator began to make it’s ascent. 

“Is she awake?” He asked, turning towards her. 

Wanda nodded and continued, “She’s not going to turn herself over to Zemo, we’ve already discussed, we think it might be possible to–” The elevator stopped, doors opening revealing Bucky on the other side. His eyes widened at the sight of Wanda, stepping in and immediately beginning, 

“Wanda we aren’t using her as bait.” She huffed annoyed, 

“We would all be right there, it’s not as if she’s defenseless–”

“She is defenseless, and there’s no telling what Zemo has up his sleeve,”

“We would all be a couple of yards away as he revealed his location, I would be RIGHT THERE-”

“Absolutely not, there’s only a definite amount of bases he could be at-”

“If he even is at a Hyrda base, you have no idea where he could be.” 

“That’s why we would gather some intel before-”

“And how long will that take?” Sam stepped between the two Avengers as the elevator stopped again. 

“Chill out, both of you.” Sam stated in his Captain voice, “We’ll discuss this as a team in our meeting tomorrow, for now let’s just make sure Y/N is making a good recovery,” The trio stepped from the elevator into the main common room, “And by the way Eric will begin training tomorrow,” Bucky’s face contorted into rage as Sam took a step back into the elevator and quickly hit close door, muffling his shouted reply as the elevator climbed once again, taking him away from his current problem and into a future one. 

How were they going to do this?

How could you ever look at him again? 

Your cheeks had flushed with embarrassment almost immediately. The little pet name, it had slipped from your mouth before you could even think about it. The tenderness in which he held your hand, for a minute you just forgot who you were. You forgot who you weren’t. Because that’s what this is right?

Stupid fucking Steve and his stupid fucking emotions ruining your life. 

Hot tears ran down your cheeks in the moments after you were left alone in your room. How could you be so stupid? These feelings that were bubbling in your chest weren’t yours. They just weren’t. This love and affection you felt for him was one sided, it was just because of Steve. Stupid, stupid Steve and this stupid haunted heart that wouldn’t just stop.

Why you? Why these memories? Why was this fucking guy now after you? For some diluted super serum? You sunk back heavily into the sheets, tear tracks dried on your face, still hot in embarrassment. Alone. 

Until you weren’t.

A gentle knock and your door opened. The soft smile, dimpled cheek, bright eyed Eric entered your room, “Hey.” He said quietly, taking note of your red eyes he came to your side quickly, taking your hand in his. They were softer than Bucky’s, his knuckles weren’t split. “What’s wrong?” You shake your head, wiping your cheeks with your free hand until he gently cupped your face. 

“It’s nothing.” Your voice still watery. 

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” He was kneeling by your bed, face so close to yours. Sweet plush lips. You are vulnerable. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. That maybe it was a mistake, but you needed it. You needed it so badly. You pressed your lips to his. 

He seemed shocked at first, before his hand drifted from your cheek to the nape of your neck, meeting your lips over and over in a series of small kisses that brought those butterflies back into your stomach. His tongue brushed your bottom lip and you couldn’t help but deepen the kiss. Trying to fill that hollowness in your chest. This ache that you know will never go away because it’s the hole that Steve had left for Bucky. 

It’s the emptiness you felt when Bucky ran away from you, that rejection you were now using Eric to soothe. 

He rested his forehead against yours, breath still mingling. “I really liked that.” He whispered, his eyes still half lidded looking at your lips.

“Me too.” And you kinda did.


	10. ten

Were you being naive? Maybe. 

You feet pounded against the pavement, head finally going clear for the first time since yesterday. The clouds are finally parting. You kissed Eric. And you liked it, but Steve had to be interfering. The fluttering in your chest wasn’t there. Maybe. Or maybe you didn’t like him as much as you thought you did? You couldn’t figure it out. 

He was enamored by you though, he made it clear when you’d shared dinner in your room, wrapped under his arm. “I really like you,” He said. So why did it not make you happy? 

Something was wrong. 

With you? Maybe. With him? You weren’t sure. He was a sweet guy, charming, funny, handsome. But Steve had to be interfering. Steve’s emotions had to be interfering. Is that why you couldn’t make the connection? 

You lapped Eric again. He was laughing, calling after you saying you should go to the Olympics. You didn’t think it was funny. 

Bucky met your pace, but he didn’t speak, choosing instead to run alongside you. Silently. Your stomach soured. It was like you cheated on him almost, but you didn’t. Technically if you really think about it, Steve did. Why the fuck did you call him Jaime? Because you thought that would make him soft for you? Because you thought then he would give in? 

Two steps forward and one step back. He’d just gotten friendly with you. And you’d ruined it. But maybe this was his olive branch. Maybe you should say you’re sorry. Maybe you should…

“Slow down.” His hand met your arm, halting your movements, your legs shaking. You pushed yourself too far. You breathed heavily, putting your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. “Did you not learn anything the last time?” You glared up at him. He rested his hands on his hips, looking out across the field where the agents were beginning warm ups. Eric was among them. “Look, maybe I was a little harsh on you last night.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes before crossing his arms across his broad chest. “You just… caught me off guard.” 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” You sighed, standing to your full height, “It just came out.” He nods, 

“I know.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he continues, “I know you can’t help it, Sam and Bruce… they tell me all the time. It’s just…”

“Hard.” You shift from foot to foot awkwardly, “I know.” He sighed heavily, 

“If you want to learn some moves,” He started, “Just defensive, and just in case, I’ll be willing to practice with you. But only because I don’t want you to have to rely on instinct and only because Zemo is a threat, understood?” You nodded rapidly, standing a little straighter. “This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to send you in as bait and this doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to have you actually fight anyone.” 

“Of course,” You agreed, “Sure.” This was a step, and hopefully one that wouldn’t set you too far back. 

Wanda stirred her tea, looking over the video. Again and again. Trying to figure out where Zemo had recorded it. There was a window behind him, high off the ground, so it had to be a warehouse. But where? 

“How’s it going?” Sam entered the kitchen, popping a k-cup into the keurig. 

“There’s no identifying markers, but we could probably enhance the background audio enough to hear if there are cars going by or–”

“How are you doing?” Sam pulled a mug from the cabinet, “Is what I was really asking.” Wanda nodded, shutting the laptop. 

“I’m okay,” She hugged herself, “Just worried.” 

“They don’t have tesseract power anymore.” Sam reasoned, “And in this universe the infinity stones no longer exist. He destroyed them.” Thanos, Thanos destroyed them. 

“But what about the other ones?” She asked, “Steve opened an alternate universe when he stayed, what if in his Thanos never destroyed them?” Sam set his mug down heavily, hands bracing the counter. 

“Is this why you can’t sleep at night?” Yes. She shook her head, leaning back in her seat. 

“I’m just saying, the possibility is there.” 

“Potentially, yes.” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin to wrap my head around that.” 

“Goodmorning,” You called cheerfully entering the kitchen, Bucky passing you to grab a water bottle from the fridge. Wanda smiled, 

“How did you sleep?” She asked, holding a hand out to you. You walked into it, letting her pull you into her side. 

“I slept alright,” You shrugged, looking at Sam. 

“How are you guys?” Sam began making breakfast, something he liked to do.

“Cooking distracts me from other things,” He told you once, “It helps me relax.” It helped that Bucky and Peter had the appetite they did because the amount of food that Sam would cook could feed half the compound. 

“We’re going to have a meeting later,” Sam said to you, “You should be there.” Bucky’s spoon clanked against the side of his bowl,

“Is it really necessary?” He asked, glaring at his friend, “What happened to keeping her in the dark?”

“Hasn’t worked out very well,” Wanda mused. “Steve’s passwords are still in the system.” Sam and Bucky both looked at you as you sank down a little in your chair, turning to glare at Wanda. “I think it’s funny that neither of you had even thought about it.” 

“How long have you been in the system?” Sam asked, clearing some dishes off the kitchen island. 

You shrugged, picking at a string attached to your shirt. “Since I found out who it was.” You glanced at Bucky, then turned your attention back to Sam, “I know what Zemo is capable of with a year of planning, but he may have been planning this for… almost ten years?” You stood to help him clean up, placing your bowl and cup in the dishwasher. “There has to be something deeper than just turning myself over so he can harvest a little blood. I doubt it’s as simple as that.” Sam agreed. 

“We’ll talk about this more in the meeting later,” Bucky stood from the stool, “Are you ready?” He asked you. 

“Ready for what?” Wanda stood as well, circling the island. 

You grinned, “He’s gonna show me some moves.” 

Your back hit the mat and you groaned. Steve was not helping today, but today wasn’t also life or death like the other instances had seemed to be. No fight or flight instinct to hone in on. 

“Which is good,” Bucky claimed, “Because you can’t rely on that.” He held his hand out to you and you felt your heart skip a beat when you grabbed it, letting him help you from the ground. “Here.” His foot kicked your feet apart, hands pulling your elbows tight to your chest. “Try again.” 

You swung your right arm the way he’d shown you to, hip turning, ball of foot pivoting, right into his arm, blocking you. “Gotta move faster than that, you’ve got speed on your side versus muscle. Try again.” And again, and again. Until your arms felt like lead and you were panting over the water fountain taking steady sips. Bucky, the show off, was benching five hundred pounds behind you like it was nothing. It rattled you. 

How much could you really bench? Steve could do almost a thousand pounds, if not a full thousand. You look down at your own hands, wondering. Could you do half? Because even really two hundred pounds would be incredibly impressive. Maybe you should ask Bruce and Peter about trying? Just like with the running? What if…

“Hey.” Eric. But it didn’t feel like before. You remembered feeling excited to see him before, but now it just filled you with dread. What was happening to you? 

“Hey.” You breathed, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your sweatshirt. Eric smiled, brushing the hair out of your face before pulling you into a soft kiss. The weights dropped with a heavy clang. You quickly pulled away, heat rushing to your face as you turned from Eric slightly to see Bucky staring at you with an indiscernible expression in the mirror’s reflection. Your stomach dropped. 

“What’s wrong?” Eric’s hand on your arm, turning your attention back to him. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth, vision spinning. Fuck.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

_You seethed. This jealousy festering in your chest. This hurt. What were you doing? This was so dumb. It’s just Bucky. Your friend Bucky. Your Bucky. Arm wrapped around another beautiful redhead, one who’d pointedly ignored you all night._

_“Why did you have to bring him?” She asked when the two of you strolled up. Bucky had rolled his eyes,_

_“He was invited before you were.” And a pout. But Bucky was handsome, and strong. Girls would compromise if it meant going on a date with him. You were just left to suffer._

_Bucky loved dating. And you knew it. He loved going out, dancing, splitting shakes at the diner, taking walks around Brooklyn Heights just as the sun went down and the heat was leaving the pavement. And you were a witness to it all._

_You missed the days where it was just the two of you. Days before Bucky was chasing skirts. Back when the two of you were just kicking cans in the street and trading pennies for bubblegum and short comics. Back when you’d only just discovered why Bucky always seemed to have peppermint oil on him and when he would stand between you and whatever problem you’d been trying to face on your own._

_Not that he didn’t do that now._

_He just didn’t know about this one._

_You loved Bucky. And Bucky loved you, but you couldn’t tell if this was really normal or not. This infatuation. You wanted him all to yourself. It was hard to share him with other people. You stuffed your hands heavily in your pockets as you trailed behind the two of them._

_Bucky and Vivian._

_Vivian a girl with more air between her ears than brain. Her parents came from money and a lot of it. You almost couldn’t bear to be around her. No common sense or real life knowledge and it was no secret that she looked down on you for the financial status you had. You found yourself kicking rocks behind them, hoping one would snag her hose and leave her reeling and needing to go home._

_But it wasn’t the case._

_“You good pal?” Bucky turned, that fucking smile that made your heart skip a beat. What a fucking joke._

_“Yeah,” Steve’s voice came out terse and shaky, “I’m good.” Bucky knew you were lying. His face fell a little before turning back to Vivian and saying,_

_“Let’s get you home huh?” He shifted his jacket onto her shoulders and you could see her dimpled cheek press against his shoulder. “Gettin’ cold out here.”_

_You waited off to the side as he stood on the step below her, her arms thrown over his shoulders as she pressed a bold kiss to his lips. The reflection in the window showed a strange expression on your face. One that seemed familiar and not familiar at the same time. You knew you were jealous. You knew you hated that girl. But this was Steve. Steve was jealous. Steve hated that girl._

_But why was he showing you this?_

“You couldn’t have fucking caught her?” Bucky yelled, cradling your body to his. His left hand growing bloody from the open wound on the back of your head. Eric stumbled over his words, 

“It just happened so fast, I didn’t—” He was shaking, following Bucky as he brought you down to the lab. 

“Go back to training.” Bucky spat, not turning to look at him. “She’ll call you when she wakes up.” His heart was racing, he knew you’d be fine, but he didn’t need to tell Eric that. Let the asshole sweat it out. Bucky knew the signs. Your eyes unfocused and glassy, the slowness in which you turned your head. A seizure was coming on. The fucking idiot beside you just watched as your eyes rolled and you fell back, hitting your head on the side of the water fountain. 

What a fucking moron. 

“Peter.” Bucky stated calmly, the younger boy looking up from the slides he was examining to watch Bucky lay your body on the cot. “Get me some antiseptic and bandages, I think she might need stitches.” Your face was pale, eyes moving rapidly behind your lids. To be fair, it always scared the shit out of him, even though Bruce said you’d be fine. It wasn’t a real seizure, it just looks like one. 

“What happened?” Peter asked, laying out the items Bucky needed, “What triggered it I mean?” Bucky shrugged, wiping at the mess of blood on the back of your head before a small cut came into view. Not as bad as he thought it was going to be. 

“I don’t know,” He put pressure on the cut, grabbing another wipe and sterilizing the needle he was about to use. “Fucking idiot Joston didn’t catch her, clipped her head on the water fountain in the training room.” Peter sucked in his teeth, ripping a bandage package open and grabbing a rag. 

“Bruce should be back soon,” He said, “He went to talk to Sam about something with her blood.” Bucky tensed at that, looking at the kid and urging him to continue, “Since Zemo seemed so interested Bruce was having us both examine it, looking for what traces of the serum were in there. Shield had once tried to synthesize the serum after all of it was destroyed, but…” 

He took a small light and aimed it at your head where Bucky was neatly giving you three stitches. “We wanted to see if it was even possible, they had never been able to do it. Agent Carter got rid of the samples before they were able to complete their work. But that’s not going to say that paired with the version you received that it would be impossible to recreate something close if not the same as what Steve had.” 

Bucky wiped the area with an antiseptic towelette, letting out a heavy sigh, “Still we don’t know what he’s going to try and use it for. He got rid of the Winter Soldier program. Took all five agents out when he could have just kept them, so why now?” Peter handed him the bandage and Bucky carefully applied it to the back of your head, smoothing over it with his fingers. 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Peter began cleaning up the mess as Bucky brushed the hair out of your face, a strange expression on his. 

“Let me know as soon as you’ve got something.” A thumb brushed against your cheek softly as you stirred, then retreating footsteps. Your head was pounding. You groaned, 

“This has got to stop happening,” You whined, pushing yourself to sit up. Peter’s hands came to your arms, helping you. “I’m more accident prone now than I was before.” You joked, Peter gave you an uneasy smile. 

“I don’t think Sergeant Barnes is too keen on it either.” You sighed, fingers coming to brush against the bandage on the back of your head, your hair still slightly damp and sticky with blood. You looked at your red tinted fingers, 

“Did he do this?” You ask, shifting on the cot to swing your legs over the side. 

“Yeah, seemed pretty pissed at that new recruit about it too.” Eric. Oh shit. Eric. Your vertebrae cracked as you stood, legs still shaky. “Relax, Wanda is on her way.” You look around the lab noticing your chart on the screen, twisting red blood cells under a microscope. 

“Gotta start wearing some protective gear soon.” You joked, “What’s going on here?” You pointed to the microscope image being projected onto the screen. Peter looked at it and then back at you before asking, 

“Have you talked to your parents about this at all?” 

…

“Hey Mom, it’s me. I’m just calling to check in.” You paced your room, trying not to scratch the back of your head where you knew your cut was healing, “I just need to ask you something, so if you could give me a call back whenever. I love you, bye.” You ended the call, looking at your home screen. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to go a day or two without talking to your parents. And you were sure to call them every few days just to make them aware that you were still alive and everything was fine. But it had been a while, and aside from the occasional text you hadn’t talked much since getting to the compound. 

Maybe that was a mistake. 

Zemo had to know about them right? He knew where you were and what you were doing right now supposedly so he had to know something about them. You just hoped they were okay. 

They lived right across the bridge in New Jersey, but worked in the city. You had no other siblings, but they had a couple of dogs and lived in a fairly decent house in a suburb not too far away from you. You’d go home sometimes and do your laundry there, steal a couple boxes of cereal out of the pantry, dogsit when they went on vacations. 

But you couldn’t help but feel some kind of resentment from them. 

They would be better off if you’d just died as a child. 

You were always so sickly and needed a lot of care. It took a lot of money to finally get you healthy and to keep you alive. There was no doubt that you harbored some guilt from it, even if they never said anything to you about it. You owed them whatever help you could give them.

It’s why Zemo’s offer seemed so good for a split second. 

Until the next second made you realize how selfish that would be and how you could never do that because surely it meant the end of the world. How could it not? 

But he had to know that right? That you would never do that? Maybe. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky stepped into the room, taking his hands out of his pockets to reach for your bandage, “Let me see how you’re holding up.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Yeah, I think I’m fine.” Your head was still tender in spots, he gently tugged the bandage back, looking beneath before pulling it off all together. 

“You should shower, just be careful with your stitches, they’re almost healed.” He crumpled the slightly bloody thing in his hand before disappearing into the bathroom. You could hear the sink start. 

“They’re almost healed?” You asked incredulously. 

“Yeah,” He called, “Probably the serum.” What little of it you had. He stepped from the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. “So… you and Eric?” He leaned against the wall of the bathroom, giving you an odd look. 

The look Steve had in the memory. 

Was he… “I guess,” You shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed, “I don’t really have time to think about that right now, but… I don’t think we are really together it’s just…” You shook your head, “Why does it matter?” Why were you defending yourself to him?

“I need you to stay away from him.” He stated simply, tossing the towel aside. 

“Because you don’t like him?”

“I have a gut feeling.” Always with the gut feeling. You rolled your eyes. Yes, you might not like Eric as much as you originally thought you did, but avoiding him completely would be almost impossible right now. 

“You always have a gut feeling.” You joked. 

“Have I ever been wrong?” 

“Yes,” You laughed, “You told Steve once that he shouldn’t apply for that job in Manhattan off of a gut feeling, but it worked out and he made good money drawing those comics.” Bucky jokingly scoffed, 

“The kid got beaten up left and right in Manhattan with no one to help him.”

“So really you didn’t want him to go because it took him away from you?” The playful joking mood dropped and Bucky gave you a serious look, averting his eyes from yours before quietly replying,

“Yes.” Your heart sank as you stared at him shifting awkwardly across from you. Tugging your lip between your teeth nervously you said softly,

“I’ll be okay Buck. I can handle Eric.” You stood, taking a step closer to him, “It’s Zemo I’m worried about right now,” You gently grabbed his hand, “I’m not too concerned with a crush.” I’m only concerned with you. His blue eyes met yours, focused, he squeezed your hand reassuringly.

Your phone rang, the shrill chimes from the bed ruining the moment. You walked over seeing your Mom’s picture flashing across the screen, “Hey,” You answered breathlessly. “Yeah, how are you?” You gave Bucky an apologetic look and he walked over squeezing your shoulder before leaving the room. 

“Why haven’t you called lately?” She asked on the other end, scolding almost. 

“I’ve just been busy,” You fell back against the bed, “I have something important to ask you actually.”

“Yeah you said in your message,” You could hear one of the dogs barking in the background. “Sorry, there’s a squirrel on the porch. What is it?” Your heart was racing thinking back to your earlier conversation with Peter. Did you really want to know the answer to this question? And how important was it, really, to relay this answer back to him? 

“I just wanted to know…” Could you even ask this question? You picked at the skin on your fingernails, sighing heavily, you closed your eyes before staring intently at the ceiling. “Uhhh nevermind…. just, how have you been the past few weeks? Catch me up.”

Fucking Chicken.


	11. eleven

“So what’s the plan?” You ask, sitting around the conference table. This was a full group gathering. The man in charge of training the recruits was even standing in the back of the room. A man you’d never seen before, but Bucky explained, 

“We’ll probably be using everyone for this.”

Wanda sat to your left, half facing you. Sam stood at the front. 

“Zemo is currently operating out of somewhere in New York,” Sam stated, he looked at the hologram of King T’Challa sitting to his right. “Have you found anything about the men in Tanzania?”

“We’ve recovered a cache of old weaponry, guns left over from the forties in their possession.” The weapons powered by the tesseract. 

“But the tesseract doesn’t exist anymore.” Wanda interjected. “So they can’t have tesseract power if it doesn’t exist?”

“They contain fractions of power, just as you still do.” King T’Challa goes on, “But that’s not going to say they aren’t going to use these weapons for prototypes for a different power source.” 

“Or if they already have.” Sam agreed. “We need to get back out on the streets.” Clint sat back in his chair, the archer eating pretzels. 

“If he’s in a warehouse somewhere it’s fair to say, according to every comic I’ve ever read, that we should start at the docks.” Bucky rolled his eyes, spinning around in his chair to glare at him. Clint smirked and crunched down on another pretzel. Bucky looked at you, Wanda whispering into your ear about her earlier idea. 

“Absolutely not.” Bucky said, “You’re not doing that.” Wanda glared at him. 

“Doing what?” Sam asked. Bucky gave him a look.

“Using her as bait.”

“I don’t think,” You started, “That Zemo thinks I will take his offer, I think he knows I wouldn’t.” The group looked at you. “So I don’t think pretending to take the money would be the best approach, but if we find him, then maybe I could try to confront him and find out what his plan is.” You shrug, you look at Clint, “According to every comic I’ve ever read the bad guy always likes a monologue right?” He laughed throwing a pretzel across the table at you. 

“You’re not an agent.” Sam said sternly. Protectively. “You’re not an Avenger.” You sigh,

“No, I know.” You put your hands up in defense. “I’m not saying I’ll go in and fight him or take him down or anything. I’m just saying…”

“We aren’t putting you in a position where he could take you.” Bucky stated sternly, “That’s final.” Sam looked at you oddly, eyes going soft for a moment. 

“Bucky will train you to handle yourself if the moment arises.” Sam said, “I know he’s teaching you some self defense, but…” His eyes met Bucky’s steady glare. “I think you can handle him training you like a recruit, just in case.” Bucky opened his mouth to speak.

“Just in case, Buck.” You spoke soothingly. His eyes met yours across the table. Just in case. Sam nods, 

“So here’s what we’re going to do…”

Sam and Bruce were weirding you out. Whenever you’d walked into a room they would immediately stop talking. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bruce was usually quiet during your testing you’d think that was strange, but what was strange about it was that he was suddenly fine with pushing you a little harder than you’ve pushed before. 

“Your body is adapting,” Peter said astounded after watching you run 45 miles an hour, “It’s incredible.” Your body…

…is adapting.

This watered down serum that you’ve had pumping through you for almost three years seems to thrive under the new routine. 

“If we are going to train,” Bucky stood above your bed like a jackass holding a flashlight in your face, “Then we are going to train.” It was 4 AM. He ripped your covers off and you groaned covering your face. “C’mon, get up.” He seemed peeved about it. As though him doing this would make you say ‘oh nevermind, I would rather sleep in.’ A sweatshirt was thrown at you soon after and you were slipping your sneakers on a minute after that, grumbling as you followed him outside for the warm up. 

Peter made these little clear fingertip sized electrodes to attach to yourself before a workout. They would wirelessly record data that would then cycle into your file for them to look at later on in the day. 

“I don’t think it’s fair that Peter gets to sleep in and just be like that.” Like super strong and able to lift a truck over his head. You panted as you’d topped out at fifty miles an hour for the first time since shredding your legs. The muscles had become more defined, stronger. 

“When Steve got the serum it immediately gave him the muscle mass he needed to use the power he was given,” Bruce explained, “You didn’t have that muscle.” 

But you were getting it. 

You were sweating while Bucky stood above you, watching you press fifty, then seventy, then a hundred pounds. You’d begun squatting with just the bar, your legs and core now being able to add a hundred pounds to that as well. 

You’d punched Bucky in the jaw yesterday. It had been morifying. His head whipping to the side, a dribble of blood on his lip while you covered your mouth and saying “I’m so sorry.” Over and over again until he gave you what must have been the sexiest look you’d ever seen in your life and saying, 

“Good, do it again.” 

Eric was very apologetic for not catching you, “It just happened so fast, I just didn’t—” You shook your head, holding up a hand to stop him. 

“It’s okay,” You laughed, “Really, it happens very quickly.” You still didn’t know what you wanted to do about this. Eric was a great guy, he was kind, he seemed to really care about you. He was a great kisser, but it just didn’t feel the way you thought it would. 

It didn’t feel the way…

You looked over at Bucky who was pointedly not looking at you. You sighed, rolling your shoulders back and tuning back into Eric’s story about what happened that day at training. “We should have dinner again,” His fingers brushing down your arm. A chill went down your spine and not a good one. Maybe this is when you can tell him that maybe now isn’t a good time. Dinner. 

“Tonight?” You stepped to the side to let another recruit pass you, luckily taking you out of range for his soft touch. He nods, 

“Sounds good.” The group behind him calls his name, bringing his attention away from you. “I’ll see you later.” A soft peck to your lips and he was gone. You let out a heavy sigh and placed your face in your hands. You’ll tell him tonight. 

“What do you want?” You asked the figure standing in the middle of your room. “Why are you here?” 

Steve’s eyes followed you as you walked into the bathroom, turning the sink on to wash your face. His figure appeared in the reflection of the mirror behind you. His eyes were soft. Hands in his pockets. 

“If you’re going to throw me into a memory at least let me lay down.” His eyes moved from yours, turning to look at the bed, then back at you. You sighed, drying your skin before walking by him, your shoulder phasing through his chest. “I don’t understand.” You lay on the bed, “What these memories are supposed to be showing me. Or why any of this is even happening.” His figure loomed above you before his hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his blue eyes soft, caring even. Apologetic. 

_A moment,_

_Then another,_

_You felt your eyes roll back in your head and then you were gone._

_How do you start over? How does it happen?_

_People blipped back right where they’d disappeared. Patrons in their seats, servers mid step towards tables. There were car crashes, fires, and some people fell from the sky. It was a horror show. Almost as hard as people disappearing in the first place. Families were torn apart. Divorced. Kids lost would reappear to a broken home, their parents not being able to cope with their loss and separated. Some had siblings born during the blip that were now older than them._

_There was a rush for jobs. For work. Files lost or discarded. Apartments and homes boarded up or sold to someone else._

_The reversal of the blip. The loss of Tony Stark. It was felt. Everywhere. Murals started popping up. Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov. The world was at a loss._

_But you had been one of the lucky ones._

_It had always just been you and your parents and the three of you survived the blip. You all lived those five years with no extended family. You’d lost a couple of coworkers, but the sickness you had kept you from keeping many friends anyway._

_Life went on._

_It was quiet. A couple weeks after the blip. A slow night at the bar. You’d been focused on sneaking some chips and guac behind the service bar where guests couldn’t see you. The four men watching whatever semi-pro sports event was going on that night. They were wearing one of the teams gear. A couple that was talking about the people they worked with, the woman speaking about the job she’d been promoted into and how it was up in the air now because the man that had the job before her had come back._

_A man walked in. An old man in face only. He walked steadily. Didn’t hunch. He was fairly tall. He smiled at you as he approached the bar, scooting the stool out and plopping down, casting his eyes to the television screen above him that was mutely playing the news._

_“Hi,” You smiled, grabbing the beer list and a food menu from behind you, “How are you tonight?”_

_The old man smiled softly, “I’m doing well, how are you?” His eyes drifted to the raised scar poking out of your shirt. An old one. For a heart that you were on borrowed time with._

_“I’m alright,” You lay your arms on the bar after placing a coaster down, “Would you like a beer?” It was a brewery after all. The man nodded, looking down the list before picking your seasonal pilsner. “Did you want to order some dinner as well?”_

_“Maybe in a minute.” He took a sip of his beer before placing it down on the coaster, gesturing up towards the tv screen. The Avengers compound, or what was left of it anyway. “What a mess that is.” You turned to look. They were going to start rebuilding soon, but hadn’t quite started yet. You could see cranes in the background._

_“Yeah,” You breathed, “I couldn’t imagine.” You shook your head._

_“Being an Avenger?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer. You laughed,_

_“Yeah, definitely couldn’t imagine that.” You were called to the end of the bar, the guys wanted another round._

_“I heard that Captain America retired.” The old man said, the menu now laying open in front of him._

_“Huh…” You looked back on the screen where the news reporter was talking. A picture of Tony Stark and Natasha Romanov behind her. “I don’t blame him.”_

_“No?” The old man flipped a page in the menu._

_“That job is probably very taxing.” You explain, “Especially after a fight like that. I’m sure he was close with his teammates.” You leaned on the bartop towards him. “It must be hard losing people you’re that close to.”_

_“You’ve never lost anyone close to you?” He asked, flipping another page._

_“No, it’s just me and my parents.” You shrug, “We all survived the blip…. And I’ve never had any other family so…” He nods, eyes growing soft for a moment before saying,_

_“You look just like your Mother.” You gave him a strange look._

_“You know my Mother?” He shook his head,_

_“No, I mean you probably look just like your Mother, I’m sorry.” He laughed, “It’s this old brain of mine, the words don’t come out the way I intend them to sometimes. Can I get a cheeseburger?” The old man sat at your bar long after the other patrons left. Closing time is still a little too far away for your liking._

_“You can ask about it,” You joked. He had looked at your scar four times now. “It’s okay.” He cleared his throat,_

_“Have you had any luck?” He asked. You shook your head._

_“I’ve had two different hearts now, this one I’m sure I’m on borrowed time with.” You wrung out a towel, wiping down the bar where the couple had just left. “Whatever is supposed to happen will, I guess.”_

_“Have you always had medical problems?” He asked, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. You nodded, sticking the glasses in the dishwasher._

_“They thought I wasn’t going to survive childhood,” You said, “I was always sick as a kid, not even just with the heart problems, even though that was their main concern.” You came to rest your arms on the bar in front of him again, sitting on the ledge behind the bar. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I had pneumonia.”_

_“Sounds like you lost the genetic lottery.” He jibed. You grinned, laughing._

_“Yeah, sounds like it.” You didn’t know why you were so comfortable with this man. He seemed so familiar. There was something about him that made you just feel so safe. On his left hand shined a gold wedding ring._

_“I’m sure it’ll work out.” He says, “And then maybe you could get out of this bar, doing something incredible.” You shake your head, scrunching your nose._

_“I’m probably going to die in this bar.” He chuckled,_

_“What did you want to do?” He popped a fry into his mouth, “When you were a kid, before you realized that without a new heart you wouldn’t be able to do anything?” Your eyes met his. Blue, with a little bit of green._

_“I wanted to be a superhero.” You laughed, “I think every kid wanted to.” You turned your head towards the television screen, voice trailing off as you said, “Just like Captain America….” The news of his retirement. Breaking News of his retirement. You looked back at the old man across from you, his wallet out, thick plastic covering pictures of family._

_“I hope one day you’ll get everything you ever wanted kid.” He stood from the stool and grabbed your hand softly, a bundle of cash pressed between your palms, “Have the best life.” A kind smile, eyes heavily crinkled in the corners and he stepped back. Two finger salute. And he was gone._

He showed you your own memory. Eyes blurry, regaining focus. Panting with heavy breath like you’d just resurfaced from underwater. He was still there, standing in front of you and you could almost see it. 

The wrinkles by his eyes. His grey hair. The wedding band. The tan jacket.

“You knew.” You accused, legs shaky as you stood from the bed. He didn’t move. “Did you know?” His jaw clenched, unanswering as always. You stood chest to chest, staring into his eyes asking a question you never thought you would ask. You opened your mouth and closed it once, before opening it again and asking, “Did you know that you were going to give me your heart?” 

…

The elevator binged before the doors opened and Bucky watched Eric stepping out into the common area. His teeth immediately grinding. The fork he’d just been stabbing broccoli with clanged heavily on the side of the plate as he dropped it, scooting the stool back as loudly as he could, taking the man’s attention away from your door and to Bucky’s hulking figure. 

“What are you doing up here recruit?” Bucky knew what he was doing up here, but he needed to go. Sam was busy assigning tech and filing forms. Everyone else had gone home. You had disappeared to your room not that long ago, there was no one in between them now. No one tugging on Bucky’s leash.

“Oh,” Eric grinned sheepishly, “I was just heading over to have dinner with Y/N.” Bucky stepped towards him. Eric shifted, nervous. 

“I don’t think you will.” Bucky stepped a little too close for comfort. Eric stepped back, his back pressed against the wall next to the elevators. “I think you’re gonna go back to your bunk with the rest of the recruits.” Eric’s face contorted into a glare.

“She wants me here.” He spat, “She likes me.” A beat of silence then a smirk pulled on his lips, “But you like her.” A shit eating grin, “Wow.” He scoffed, “The Winter fucking Soldier, jealous because of a stupid crush.” 

“You need to mind your damn business.” Bucky spat, “And go back downstairs before I put you on suspension.”

“You don’t have that kind of power.” Eric took a step towards Bucky, the nervous facade he’d put on earlier dissolving, “Sam has that power though, doesn’t he?” Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides. “Because Rogers made him Captain… and not you.” Bucky laughed, shaking his head.

“You really think I wanted to be Captain America?” Bucky fisted his hands in Eric’s shirt, slamming him back against the wall, “You need to stay away from her, if you know what’s good for you.” Eric didn’t falter, smirk still on his face. 

“I think that’s up to her.” He said, “Don’t you?” Eyes rolling, “But you’re from the forties right? Where men make the decisions and women stay in their place? So you think you can just make that decision for her?”

“Eric I think you should go,” You voice came softly from the hallway. Both men turned to look at you, Bucky’s heart dropped. You’d been crying. Your eyes shifted from Eric’s to Bucky’s. “Tonight isn’t a good night.” Bucky released him, taking a step back. Eyes still connected to yours.

“Y/N?” Eric stepped towards you, “I thought we were going to have dinner? What’s wrong?” You wrapped your arms around yourself,

“Not tonight,” You looked at him and noticed his fists were clenched, “Another time, I’m sorry.” He sucked in his teeth, nodding.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” His voice tense. Clearly unhappy. When the doors to the elevators closed Bucky watched your eyes turn to meet his again, watering.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Bucky faltered for a moment, his anxiety spiking.

“Are you okay?” Your hand reached out for his, fingers brushing before interlacing. You hugged him toward the couch, sitting softly and he followed suit. You traced his fingers for a moment, sniffling. “Doll,” His metal fingers touched your chin, pulling your eyes to his, “What’s wrong?” 

Your lips parted, chapped. You shook your head to clear it, “I just had another memory.” You explain, his fingers tightening around yours. You look at him with watery eyes, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks and you say, “Steve knew he was going to give me his heart, years before he did.” 

You watched Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction, and his hand squeezed yours reassuringly. And then he sighed heavily, blinking hard before meeting your eyes softly, “I know.”

…

The sun was setting over New York City. Cars were bumper to bumper, jammed in the streets. Bikes bobbing and weaving in between. In the center of Manhattan, the tourist spot of Times Square was booming with activity. 

Teens lounged on the red steps, people in character outfits were tricking tourists into giving them cash. A couple corners had men handing out flyers for a comedy show they were trying to fill the seats of that night. A couple other corners some guys were selling their own mix cds for $10 a pop.

Shoppers had handfuls of bags and the hundred adverts you see changed and shifted effortlessly on the LEDs. The New Years ball sat idly at the top of One Times Square, the dark numbers of 2027 sitting until they were to be changed for the New Year. 

The ball suddenly began to rise.

No one noticed at first. The steady climb that usually didn’t happen but once a year.

In a security office a man who had been idly sitting sipping his third coffee of the day suddenly choked. The camera showing the roof of the building showed the ball disappearing out of sight.

People began to stop. 

Stop walking. Stop driving. The teens on the steps pulled out their phones capturing the malfunction that would surely be trending later.

The ball reached the top. 2027 lit up. And then the ball began to drop again.

People began counting. Jokingly. Ready to say Happy New Year, a loud chorus shouted to be recorded and posted on every social media platform available. 

10

9

8

Some people moved on, seemingly unbothered with their day. A group of tourists visiting from Missouri in matching t-shirts took a picture of themselves with a selfie stick. 

7

6

5

A man was arguing with his wife, the two ignoring what was going on if only for the fact that she wanted to look at his phone and he wouldn’t let her.

4

3

2

A Mother picked up her child, pointing at the ball. The lights glowing in the darkened sky.

1

An explosion.


	12. twelve

There was silence.

For one beat,

Then another.

His hand was dropped, “What do you mean you know?” You stood from the couch, anger welling up in your chest.

“Listen, Y/N…”

“No.” You shake your head, taking a step back as he stands. “You knew he planned on giving me his heart?” Emotions were high, boiling over into hot tears on your cheeks. 

Steve planned on giving you his heart. Why? Why you? How did he know he was going to give it to you? A year before he did. How could he have timed that? His heart failed at the same time yours did. A perfect fucking coincidence. 

Bucky looked desperate, not knowing what to say, “He—he knew he was dying.” Bucky said, “At the end.” His voice was right and eyes were growing red, tears in the corners. “He said shit, like he knew the day he was going to die…” Bucky ran his fingers through his short hair, tugging at the ends. “Like how the fuck did he know when he was going to die Y/N?” 

Both of you are crying now, a strange energy in the air as Bucky continues, “He told me he read about you in the newspaper. He said that if he could give you his heart he would. He had some deal with Strange.” Doctor Strange. Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that he wanted you to have it.” You choked on a sob, stepping back trying to avoid Bucky’s grip on your arm. His warm hand closing around your forearm. 

“I don’t deserve it.” You hiccup. “You know I didn’t deserve it.” You were nothing. You’d done nothing. You were nobody. Bucky’s grip tightened, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his other arm around you.

“But you do,” He mumbles into your hair, “You—“ 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Asked into his chest. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Bucky’s fingers traced your shoulder, up your neck to cup your cheek, bringing your face to look up at his. 

“If I said it was to keep you safe, would you believe me?” Your lips parted to answer, eyes searching his own for the truth. The alarm blares, hands going to cover your sensitive ears as Sam’s voice comes over the speaker. 

“Code Grey.” 

His face falls. Bucky steps back from you, jaw clenching. “Stay here.” Your eyes widen, barely hearing him over the blaring alarm and Sam’s voice barreling off instructions over the speakers. 

“What does ‘Code Grey’ mean?” You yell, following him down the hall to his room where he pulls the black trunk out of his closet. Inside is his tac gear, gun holster, cache of knives and the guns that fit perfectly in the holsters. 

“Peter is going to stay with you.” Bucky said, the alarm muffled in the room but still loud. “There’s been an attack. That’s what Code Black means.” Pants quickly changed, undershirt tucked with shirt, vest, and jacket pulled over, his left arm out all the way to the shoulder. Holster clipped across his chest as he strapped himself with guns and knives. 

Your heart was racing, anxiety rising. The emotional toll of this day would hit you later but for now, adrenaline was going. He looked at you after placing his last backup magazine on his belt. “Everything will be okay.” His hands grasped your arms, pressing a kiss to your cheek he sped past you to the stairs, “Stay with Peter!” Yelled behind him and he was gone. 

About 330,000 people on average walk through Times Square every day. There was no telling how many had been in the area when the bomb went off. 

Between the early evening sky and the smoke, fires still raging it was hard to tell. It was all hands on deck. 

Triage was set up blocks outside of the disaster area, the local hospitals already at capacity. NYPD and NYFD has every officer, fighter fighter, and volunteer working to clear the scene. Put out the fires. Sam circled buildings, rescuing people trapped on top. Bucky was lifting debris and pulling out bodies, dead or alive he couldn’t tell. Not with all the soot. Wanda was trying to push back the smoke, smother the fires. Get a bit more visual on the area. Clint and Scott were helping the NYPD search for survivors. 

And you and Peter were watching it all on TV. Agents helping get people to medical care. Helping get the bodies that needed to be identified out. 

It was on every channel.

Every News station.

The devastation. Peter was crying, you were crying. Families were calling local precincts. Tourists on vacation, their loved ones calling from all over the world hoping to get any information. Are they alive or dead? 

“I need to take a minute,” You pushed off of the couch, standing in the living room. Peter nodded from his spot still seated. 

“I’ll be here.” His voice tense. He’d gotten off the phone with his Aunt just a minute before. Checking in. Making sure she’s okay. 

Your fingers hovered over your lock screen. A text you’d just answered to your Mom, everything is fine. I’m upstate. I’m okay. You sunk down onto the floor of your bedroom. Sitting in the silence. The news muffled by the hall, the door in between. For a minute you can pretend like you didn’t just cause the death and destruction that you could feel in your bones was your fault. Zemo had to be behind this. You never answered him. You never gave him attention. You didn’t do anything. 

You listened to Bucky and Sam. You listened to Bruce and Wanda. 

They didn’t want you to do anything. They wanted to figure it all out themselves. They wanted– they were professionals after all. They were Avengers. 

He was here. Steve. You could feel him in the corners of your mind. The corners of this room. His presence seeping into your pores. His being sat mirrored to your own, on the opposite side of the room. Knees bent, arms resting over them. Staring. 

Your phone rang. 

“Did you get my message?” Your heart began to race. Steve’s face turned into a steady glare, jaw clenching. “You never called me back, I thought you just forgot about me.” His voice was steady, unwavering. It sent a chill down your spine. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your hands were shaking. “What’s the plan here?” Steve seemed to appear in front of you, close. Almost touching. 

“The Avengers ruined my life,” A simple, used explanation, “They took everything from me, even when I tore them apart they still found a way to fuse themselves back together. Just without a few key missing pieces.” 

“So what?” Steve was giving you confidence. You could feel it. A ballsy tone coming to your voice as his hands lay over your knees. Comforting. “You wanna try again? Try to tear them apart?” 

“No sweet girl,” His voice sinister. The steady accented drawl, the calmness of it, in the light of what he’d just done it made your stomach turn. Steve’s hand lay over yours. A hollow warmth. “I’m going to tear everything apart.” 

Glass breaking. The darkness in the compound as the lights turned off. Steve was gone, like a match extinguished. Peter calls your name. A hand grips your arm, the leather of their glove burning your skin as you twist from their reach. Instinct. Steve helping unseen. 

You back into another body, their hands grabbing your upper arms. The pull, you throw your back into their chest, head knocking into their nose as you gain leverage to kick your feet up and out, connecting with the assailant across from you. His body fell heavily against the ground. The assailant behind you loosened his grip, the heat of his blood dripping down the back of your head. You spin to connect a fist to his ribs, an uppercut and he was laid out as well. An arm wrapped around your neck, vicing you in a chokehold. Your windpipe crushed, fingers reaching behind you searching for eyes. A bite to your fingers and you push as hard as you can against the ground, causing your assailant to lean backwards, shifting off balance. Feet kicked up to gain momentum as you toss him over your shoulders. 

Coughing, trying to take in air. 

“Y/N!” Peter screams, the sound of a web shooting through the dark. His gentle hand gripped yours. “Let’s go.” Your throat burned, still coughing. Eyes watering. “Here.” A mask. Slipped over your head, you didn’t even notice the gas. Thick smoke of it throughout the building. The eyes shifted, EDITH coming online. 

“What’s the plan?” There were bodies, unconscious, webbed to walls. You could see through the lenses. A similar mask on Peter’s face. Stark tech. It filtered the gas, keeping you from inhaling the abrasive air. He drug you against the wall, pressing your bodies out of sight for the thugs who began to walk through. Their faces now covered with gas masks and strange looking goggles. 

“I would advise an escape through the loading bay.” EDITH’s voice came over the comms of the mask. 

“Stay with me, it looks like we are gonna have to fight our way out of here.” A reassuring squeeze. You could do this. You could do this. 

Bucky’s training, Steve seemed to be helping because it was life or death. Right? 

“You can’t rely on that.” Bucky told you. “Use your training first.” You felt inexperienced. Your hands shaking as the thugs grew closer to your hiding spot. 

“I’ll try to take a few out very quickly, but you might have to get your hands dirty here.” Peter rolled his shoulders back, hands coming out in front of him to prepare for the group about to come around the corner. 

It happened quickly. 

You could hardly appreciate Peter’s skill. The ease in which he went about the room. The strength he had, an appreciation for how much he had grown bloomed in the back of your mind, an echo of Steve’s thoughts. But you didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. 

Bucky’s training took over. The way you twisted the gun out of their hand. An elbow to the throat. A roundhouse kick to their head. Sliding between someone’s legs, to get on them from behind, wrapping your thighs around their throat and spinning them to the ground. Knocking them out with the butt of their own gun. 

The two of you worked your way down to the loading bay. “I never learned.” Peter said suddenly, “Shit, I’ve never learned how to fly one of these things.” Your breath in pants as the two of you loaded into the jet. You looked back at his panicked expression, the lenses to his suit raised and wide. 

“I’ve got memory.” You breathed, settling down in the pilot seat. “Sorta.” You could vaguely pull the order in which you needed to flip these switches to take off. Peter sat heavily in the seat next to you. 

“I don’t know if I should be scared or not.” Peter joked. Your fingers moved deftly. The ramp behind you closing, bullets ricocheting off the side. Switches flipped, lights going on and the jet moving out onto the runway. 

“I need you to have faith in me, because I’m so fucking nervous right now.” The mask pulled off of your face, eyes adjusting to the monitor in front of you. The dim glow of lights along the runway. 

“Oh my god.” Peter’s hands rushed to buckle himself in, “Please don’t kill us.” You let out a shaky breath as the engine clicked on, the jet speeding down the runway, before lifting into the air, and disappearing into the night sky. 

Bucky coughed, clearing some smoke and soot from his lungs. He couldn’t wait to shower. The thick layer of grime on his body, the sweat, the blood from where he scraped his arm on a piece of rebar. Emotions were high. There were people crying everywhere. The bodies he’d pulled… a lot weren’t alive when he pulled them out. 

His fists clenched at his sides. The next time he saw Zemo face to face would be the last time anyone saw him alive. 

“Here.” Sam tossed him a bottle of water. His suit was smudged, the white a dark brown from the dust. The shield on his back marred with it. The mask that had been on his face hung around his neck. Lines were the dirt and dust hadn’t reached. Sam’s face was stoic. “We need to advance. This can’t happen again.” Bucky nods, the water soothing on his throat, he coughed once more after he finished the bottle, crunching the cardboard between his hands. 

“After this,” Sam took a swig from his own water bottle, “We make moves.” A beep, an alarm. Sam and Bucky pulled their phones from their pockets. 

Compound Security Breach

Their eyes met, “Y/N.” Bucky breathed. His heart dropped from his chest. Hand shaking, his phone gripped tight in his hand, the glass shattered. 

You were panting, legs pumping as you and Peter ran into the safe house, the creaky hinges of the doors parting to EDITH’s request. 

The doors hissed shut behind you, lights coming online in the small cabin in the middle of the woods. Peter’s footfalls stuttered, taking in the dusty surroundings. The cabin hadn’t been used since the funeral. 

Not since Pepper moved back into the city. 

The walls were vacant of pictures, just the bones of the house and the furniture remained. “Pete.” Your adrenaline was wearing off, emotions had been high all day, the escape left you blinking slowly. Exhaustion was creeping in. “Hey, it’s okay.” His fists were clenched, still sore about it. 

“I know.” He turned to you, “Why don’t you go get some rest, I’ll notify the others.” You were too tired to protest. Your mind drifted to Bucky. You hoped he was okay. He always took things like this too hard. 

There was a city in Italy that had been run through, a lot of civilian casualties. From Steve’s memory you could recall the small doll he’d found. Burned, next to the body of a little girl. They’d buried her with the doll, but Steve remembers him staring at it. Becca had one just like it. 

They’d lay wrapped together that night, Bucky crying into his shoulder. Silent sobs racking his body. It left a sour taste in your mouth. Your legs felt like lead as you walked up the stairs, phone buzzing in your pocket. Heart leaping thinking it was Bucky. Eric’s name flashed across the screen. 

Where are you?

You rolled your eyes, too tired to put in the effort. The first room you’d found you fell on your stomach fully clothed, and was immediately asleep.

_“Do you believe in fate, Captain Rogers?” The lake was still. Tony’s funeral. It just ended. People were still milling about. Pepper, with the help of Peter and his Aunt May, was serving food inside. But Steve couldn’t eat. It wouldn’t sit right._

_He should have died._

_He should have sacrificed himself to save everyone. Tony had a wife, he had a little girl. He shouldn’t have died._

_The guilt that sat in Steve’s chest was heavy. Heavier than anything he’d ever felt. Bucky was back, so was Sam. They seemed to be a little closer than before. He’d failed a friend before. This guilt was similar to that when Bucky fell from the train._

_Back almost eighty years ago now._

_Almost eighty years of Bucky being tortured and used, only to come back and have to fight, before dying again._

_What was the point?_

_The emptiness Steve felt. The hollow of his chest._

_And Natasha._

_She gave her life so Clint could live. Sacrificed herself for the greater good of humanity. But the orphans, the ones she helped for five years before they changed it all back, she never got to see them reunite with their families. She deserved to._

_That’s why Steve stood now, hands in his pockets, staring blankly out at the lake. Bucky had tried to talk to him a little before, hand on his shoulder, a reassuring squeeze. But he’d gone with Sam inside, Bucky’s own guilt fueling him to help Pepper set the table, occupy Morgan when Pepper needed to step into the bathroom to cry._

_Bucky was trying._

_So why couldn’t Steve move?_

_“Fate?” He asked, eyes shifting over to the man who stepped beside him._

_“That everything happened exactly how it was supposed to.” That’s what Tony said. In the message he recorded, everything will happen just as it’s supposed to._

_“I’m not so sure about that Strange.” His jaw hurt, the clenched grinding teeth unforgiving. “Things could have worked out differently… better for everyone.” The sorcerer nods, eyes shimmering with knowledge._

_“Not for everyone,” He said, “We all have our destiny, roles we play in the grand scheme that lead the story on.” His hands stuffed in his pockets, mimicking the super soldier. “Universes upon universes of stories, Tony’s may have ended in this universe, but someone else’s story has begun in a different universe.” Steve’s brow scrunched in thought._

_“What are you saying?” Strange gave him a look,_

_“Tony was always meant to die to defeat Thanos.” Strange stated simply, “In every universe that Thanos attacks he’s died during the fight in some way, whether it’s to save everyone or simply as a casualty. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. If you’d sacrificed yourself instead he would have died during the fight.” Steve turned to him, crossing his arms over his chest._

_“You knew this whole time that Tony was going to die?” Strange turned to face him as well, nodding. “Why keep that to yourself?”_

_“Because if I said what was going to happen there’s a chance that it won’t happen.” An easy explanation. Steve blinks, taking a breath and trying to understand._

_“So why are you telling me this?” Steve shrugs, eyes watery. “Why are you explaining different universes to me?”_

_“It’s a multiverse.” Strange states. “And we live in it now that we’ve cracked the code on quantum travel. But we also have always lived in it because quantum travel had been found. If time travel ever exists then it has always existed.” Steve shakes his head, a dry chuckle._

_“What are you saying, Strange?” Their blue eyes met, a beat of silence, then another._

_“What came first, the chicken or the egg?” An old question. One that had a few meanings. If you believed in evolution then it would technically be the egg. If you believed in God then it would be the chicken. But there’s no telling. No true answer. One unanswered, “Do you take the stones back and stay with Peggy because I tell you to or do you go on your own volition and tell me to have this conversation with you when you resurface 80 years in your future?”_

_Fists unclenched, jaw loosened and dropped, Steve felt confused. “I go back to be with Peggy?” His eyes drifted from Strange’s to the house. The cabin in the woods where Tony had been raising his family. Bucky had tied his hair up in a bun. He was on the porch with Morgan. Her tiny fingers handing him an equally tiny teacup. “I don’t stay here?” His heart racing. Strange lays a hand on his arm._

_“That’s up to you,” Strange’s hand tightens for a moment before he goes on, “But there is something you need to know.” Steve’s eyes met his again, the fat tears he hadn’t been able to shed before now running down his cheeks. “There’s a reason to go back.”_

Your head was pounding, mouth sour with sleep. Eyes crusted shut from crying once you’d hit the pillow. Your body was sore, but not uncomfortably so. You stretch your limbs out across the stiff sheets, trying to shake the sleep from your body. The sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, a blue glow in the room. You could hear the movements of someone downstairs. 

Peter. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, the cold wood off the floor chilling the soles of your feet. You make your way down the steps, the neglected wood creaking against your footfalls. Turning the corner you don’t see any sign of Peter. A red cape hovered to the right of the doorway, a man in robes stood in front of a sizzling pan. A carton of eggs lay open beside him. 

“Doctor Strange?” Your voice is thick and raspy, dry with sleep. The man across from you nods, turning from the stove to look at you, eyes soft. 

“We need to talk.”


	13. thirteen

Bucky Barnes was a patient man. He learned his patience through trials that no one should have to face. He could wait, but it seemed like right now he couldn’t get back to the compound fast enough. “Hurry up,” He scolded the dash, pushing the throttle further against the board. 

“That’s as fast as she can go,” Sam rationed, “We’re getting there as fast as we can.” His voice was tense. Bucky could tell he was anxious to get back too. 

Bucky’s heart was racing, palms sweating, throat dry. If Zemo got his hands on you, if he hurt you, Bucky’s metal knuckles groaned in protest with the shift, his fist clenching impossibly tight. 

It was dark and hard to see, but what was easy to see was the smoke billowing out of the few smashed windows on the side of the building. Agents left behind, too early in their training were on the grass outside running an emergency protocol, putting out the fire that raged on the Avengers floor. 

The jet landed hard against the ground, seat belts ripped off and both soldiers were on the ground before the ramp fully extended.

“I’ll do a scan inside.” Redwing shot from Sam’s back, flying steadily into the smoke and disappearing from sight. 

Eric. Bucky’s throat constricted as the man ran up to him, panting. 

“Have you seen Y/N?” Eric asked, trying to catch his breath. Bucky had to swallow his emotions, the anger seeping out through his pores. 

“Have you?” He snapped. Eric shook his head, ignoring Bucky’s anger, looking desperately back at the building. He was covered in soot, the sleeve of his shirt singed. He smelled of smoke and the faintest smell of gasoline. 

“It’s clear.” Sam said, the drone speeding back out from the smoke and clicking back into place behind him. 

“We saw the jet take off right before the fire started.” Eric said, hands on his hips. Bucky and Sam exchanged a look. 

“We should go.” Bucky looked back at the building before them, flames now tamed, water spilling down the sides. 

“So you know where she is?” Eric asked hopefully. “I text her, but she hasn’t answered. I just want to make sure she’s okay.” 

“She’s fine.” Sam glanced down at his phone, shooting off a text. “Your clearance level isn’t high enough for you to be granted that information.” Eric’s jaw twitched, throat constricting. 

“We’re sort of dating,” Eric offered, “I mean, I’m just concerned, that doesn’t get me anything?” Bucky looked at him in suspicion, but said nothing. 

“As your Captain I think you should go help your other teammates with the cleanup and let us handle this,” Sam started back up the ramp, “She’ll text you if she wants to text you.” As the ramp closed, the two men exchanged a look. “I don’t like him.”

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, “Finally.” 

The lake was calm. It could almost be called relaxing if you weren’t so emotionally exhausted. The sleep didn’t seem like it was enough. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d broken down crying. So here you were, sat on a bench out on the dock, watching two ducks float along the water, a chill in the air. 

Your skin was tight around your eyes from crying, rubbed raw. The birds were awake, sun finally fully over the horizon when you heard the jet touch down behind you in the distance. It wasn’t long before boots hit the hardwood of the dock. The sound is a courtesy. He wouldn’t make any sound if he didn’t want to. 

He slipped into the seat next to you, arm resting on the back of the bench behind you. A comfortable distance. 

“I’d ask you if you are okay, but you’re clearly not.” Bucky faced forward, watching the two ducks peck at the water, drifting around. 

“How bad is it?” Times Square. Most of the team was still there helping with search and rescue. It was easier to lift debris when you had superpowers. 

He couldn’t lie, “It’s bad.” You nod, throat constricting, “We’re going to get him.” He assures you, the blunt metal fingertips brushing against your spine, “This isn’t your fault.” 

“But it is.” You lean from his touch, standing and stepping away from the bench, turning to look at him. “Did you know?” You ask, temper rising. His brows scrunch, looking at you questioningly. “Do you know?” He shakes his head, 

“Know what?” You look at him incredulously. How could he not know? Could you really believe that Steve never told him? His best friend? 

“I need to go see my parents… you should come along.” You begin to make your way back up the dock, the jet sitting idly on the grass next to the log cabin, smoke billowing from the chimney. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.” Who knows what Zemo had planned, Agents had been placed to watch them recently, to make sure they were being kept safe. 

You turn to him, the dew on the grass wet on your ankles, it’s a slightly foggy morning, his hair was pulled back tightly from his face, there was blood on his uniform still, he smelled of soot. His eyes looked so blue against the dark contrast of the dirt on his face. You felt your bottom lip tremble, eyes watering once more, your hands shaking. 

“I need to see them.”

Peter watched as you entered, fumbling over his words, shifting nervously in the doorway. 

“When I was looking at your scan,” He said, “I didn’t know what I was seeing.” You couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t his job to tell you, it wasn’t Strange’s either. He was shifting foot to foot, hand idly clicking his phone screen on and off again. 

“It’s okay Pete,” You sigh. Sam stood in the kitchen, across from Strange, both eyes flicking to your frame. “I’m gonna go talk to my parents.” Sam leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms and looked at the man now standing behind you in the doorway. Bucky radiated heat against your back. 

“You goin’ with her?” Sam asked. Bucky didn’t speak, but nodded in agreement. “I want to talk to you for a minute.” Eyes pointed at you, Sam gestures with his head for the two of you to leave the room. You peer back at Bucky, confusion clear on his face as you follow his partner into the other room. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks you. Hands reaching to gently grasp your arms, comforting. 

Your breath catches, emotions still flowing freely just under your skin, the gentle question bringing tears to your eyes, tears you keep from falling. 

“I have to.” You nod, voice tight, “For myself.” For the man standing in the corner, the ghost. The man looking at you in complete sorrow. You had to do this for Steve.

Sam nods, “Did you tell him?” You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling back. Shaking your head you look back at the wall that separates you from him. From Bucky. “You can’t have him go into this blind, Y/N.” 

“I know,” You know, “I know.” You tug your bottom lip, sore with worry, between your bottom teeth before fully turning from Sam, “I’ll tell him.” 

Those curious blue eyes met you in the doorway, a banana in hand, open and partially eaten in his fist, another one was unopened and offered to you as you joined him. He wouldn’t pry, not if you didn’t want him to. But how do you tell him? How do you tell him that it’s because of you that Steve left him. 

_Steve’s heart was in his throat, palms sweating. Babies were supposed to cry right? So why wasn’t the baby crying? He watched the doctor and nurses surround the frail little thing, face blue and still covered in blood._

_“Is she alright?” Peggy cried, hair plastered to her forehead in sweat, face pale. His heart was breaking, his hand gently grasped in hers. She was beginning to hyperventilate. Steve turned to his wife, brushing her hair from her face, gently grasping her cheeks in his palms and pressing a shaky kiss to her forehead._

_“She’ll be okay.” He soothed. He didn’t know though, he didn’t know if his baby would survive._

_The pregnancy had been hard on Peggy and full of many difficulties. The pair swore that this was the first and last. In the beginning she was so sick. Morning sickness had hit her full speed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to turn her nose at the sight of anything with a strong smell. Steve had resorted to boiling chicken and potatoes most nights, and then she got a strong aversion to the smell it would create in the house so they switched to eating just buttered pasta for a while._

_She chewed ginger mints and took naps halfway through the day, sometimes she couldn’t get out of bed at all. Her job was difficult and demanding. She began spotting close to her second trimester and was sat behind a desk. Steve felt helpless. What could he do really?_

_“Maybe this was a mistake.” He took a sip of the whiskey Howard had poured him, whiskey that would do nothing but burn down his throat and roll in the acid of his stomach, the pair sitting in Howard’s office at SHIELD. “Maybe we shouldn’t have had kids.”_

_Howard sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, “Don’t think of it like that, women have been pregnant since the beginning of time, and Peggy is strong.” A sip, “She’ll be fine, her and the kid, they’ll both be fine.”_

_It didn’t seem to be fine. Not when Peggy’s eyes rolled back in her head and her face grew ashen. Not when the medical staff scrambled. Not when Steve was pushed from the room, pushed away from his silent baby and his heavily bleeding wife._

_He thought the serum would transfer._

_It was in his blood, why wouldn’t it?_

_But it didn’t. His daughter was frail. She came out barely three pounds, she could fit in the palm of his hand. But she was breathing, she was alive._

_“I don’t know how long she will survive.” The doctor said. But his girl was a fighter. Her breaths rattled, Peggy or Steve kept their baby in a bassinet next to the bed until she outgrew it. Took about a year._

_She was late on everything, walking, talking. Peggy doted on her sweet girl, breastfed longer than advised, hoping that it would do her some good. Grow her bones stronger, help her put on weight. A full fat milk in her bottle every morning, there was constantly food around for their baby. Steve tried to remember child trends from his future. Recommendations from Doctors more advanced. He resentfully thought about how much more help his daughter would get if she could see a Doctor in 2023 versus the quacks they’d been taking her to currently._

_Howard created the braces for her legs that helped her legs straighten so she could start walking, helping her keep her back upright. He found a better Doctor, a SHIELD Doctor, to perform her first surgery, and second, and third._

_It took a scare. A serious one. One where his baby girl almost didn’t make it. Intubated in quarantine for her compromised immune system. The Doctor had told them to say their goodbyes._

_“I can’t do this.” Peggy cried, one hand on her hip the other covering her mouth, Steve sat before her, hands on his knees. “I can’t let her go.”_

_His throat was dry, raspy, acidic. “I can save her.” Peggy’s eyes found his, both red and exhausted,_

_“What do you mean?” Steve shook his head, opened his mouth and then closed it before sighing heavily,_

_“I thought he was exaggerating,” He shrugged, “I thought that maybe it was an irrational decision and if I could have just waited it out she would be okay, but she’s not going to be okay.” He gently pulled his wife to his chest, rocking her side to side, looking through the glass behind her at their daughter, her chest barely rising and falling. “We have to let her go, you have to let me take her back.”_

_Howard fashioned more tech, something he could use to bring his baby somewhere where she’d get the help she needed. Here in the future. When he was still on ice. The emergency room. He said he found her on the street. They took care of her. They saved his daughter’s life. They found a family willing to take her. An older couple who couldn’t have children. Steve watched them for a while._

_He watched them take his baby to the park. He watched them take his baby to her first day of school. He watched them take his baby to the hospital, again and again._

_But his girl was a fighter, she survived._

_He hadn’t believed Strange._

_Not when he told him about this._

_“You’ll have to give her up.” He said. Steve didn’t believe him. “Everything is going to happen, exactly how it’s supposed to.” Steve didn’t believe him._

_“You’re going to go back to Peggy and have a baby girl.” Strange had looked out onto the lake that day, hands in his pockets, “And it’s going to be hard, but you’re going to have to give her up so she can survive. And she will. I’m going to tell you exactly where to take her and when.”_

_“Why?” Steve asked, “Why wouldn’t I stay?” Bucky. His throat constricted. “Why can’t I stay?” Strange’s eyes turned soft, looking back at the house where Bucky was letting Morgan comb out his hair._

_“Your daughter is very important to ensure a sound future for the planet.” Strange took a step back from him, “In every universe that you don’t go back… you lose everything.”_

_It was hard, Peggy didn’t want to do it._

_“I can’t let her go.” Holding her baby to her chest, rubbing her back as she slept soundly, the bout of pneumonia the pair didn’t think their baby would survive finally shaking itself from her lungs. They were crying._

_“If we let her go, she’ll survive.” Steve held his wife, their child between them. “If she stays here, she’ll die.”_

_So he brought you here. And he saved you._

There was a heartbeat. 

Then another.

And another. 

“Bucky,” The jet was quiet. “Please.” Your parents didn’t know whose child you were, but they adopted you as soon as they heard you’d been abandoned at CHOP. 

“We didn’t care that you were sick.” Your Mom smoothed the hair from your face, “We loved you as soon as we saw you.” Such a happy baby she remarked, a happy resilient baby. 

The jet was parked in a quiet place, you’d driven into the city and had just gotten back. Bucky wasn’t speaking with you currently. The entire drive back his eyes straight ahead on the road, not even radio to break up the silence. 

His shoulders were tense, nearly pulled up against his ears. He stood in the middle of the jet, unmoving. 

“Bu-”

“Just give me a minute.” His voice was low, forlorn. You sat heavily on the bench, the buckle clinkling against the floor as it fell. His face was turned down, hair covering most of it, his bottom lip trembling slightly. 

You sniffled and his hand reached out for you, slowly grasping your own and pulling you from the bench and into his chest. His arms wrapping around your shoulders to pull you in tightly, your arms wrapping around his waist. His face buried into your shoulder, your eyes looking up at the ceiling. 

You both stood there. 

And you cried. 

Him for the loss of his love, you for the burden of the truth. 

“Does Zemo know?” You breathed out shakily. The pair of you sitting on the bench in the jet, thighs pressed tightly together, his hand wrapped tightly around yours to keep from trembling. 

He shook his head, “If he did we would have known a long time ago.” His eyes were red rimmed, staring blankly at the wall. 

“I don’t know what to do now.” You settled further into his side, your vacant hand wrapping around your joined ones. “What do we even do?” 

There was silence once again, a small debate in his head, 

“Did he love me?” You gaze up at him, the scruff of his jaw, his pink flushed lips bitten and chapped, slightly parted with unsteady breath. 

“Yes.” He looked down at you, so close you could count his eyelashes. The freckles in his eyes. 

“How do you know?” The soft timbre of his voice rumbling against your shoulder. “How do you know for sure?” Anxiousness brews in your chest, heart fluttering with the admission, 

“Because I’ve felt that love every minute of every day since I was given this heart.” His eyes flutter closed, head coming to bump against the wall behind him, before rolling towards you. His fingers coming up to entwine in your hair and pull your face closer to his. 

His lips press against your forehead and rest there for a moment. 

A soft sound as he pulls back, “We should get going.” 

“I thought it was just the serum,” Peter shrugged, “It was changing the chemistry of your body with the serum, so I assumed at first that’s why those genetic markers were there.” The old holotable hadn’t been used for a while, but with a little tinkering the kid got it up and running again. The files stored on one of his thumb drives displayed your DNA. A mess of ACGT that was specifically you. 

Steve’s was pulled up, “This shows paternal DNA.” Margaret Carter’s DNA pulled beside that, “This shows maternal DNA.” You were fresh from a shower and eating a bowl of cereal while sitting cross-legged in a chair in the home office. 

“So you had this figured out weeks ago?” Strange asked, a smirk on his face, “And you just decided not to tell anyone?” Peter shrugged, looking at you apologetically. 

“I’m happy you didn’t tell me,” You offered, “It wasn’t for you to tell.” 

“So this is why the serum is acting the way it is?” Sam asked.

“So there were genetic traces of the serum in her DNA from birth,” He had a previous blood sample from before, before the heart. He looks at you, “You getting the heart, as weird as that is, boosted the serum you already had and it’s almost like… a mutation.” A beat of silence, “That would make sense,” He said standing from his chair, rotating your genetic code on the holotable. “Mutations sometimes come around through specific circumstances of extreme stress or hormonal growth.

When Steve was given the serum he was in a chamber and hit with an incredible amount of energy to fuse the serum with his cells, it gave the body the stress it needed for the serum to completely change his genetic makeup.”

“I’ve been stressed my entire life,” You joke, shaking your head, “But when I got the heart, my body reacted to his genetic code?” Peter nodded.

“When they did your surgery they took the heart from his body in one OR,” Strange interjected, “And brought it immediately to your OR, so the blood that remained in the chambers of the heart, that first heartbeat you experienced, gave you everything you needed.” 

That first heartbeat. 

The one where the doctors remove your heart and put another in its place. That tense, timed, procedure. That sigh of relief as Steve’s heart beat within your chest for the first time. The claps of a job well done. 

You remember waking up. 

Your Dad, the man who helped raise you, sat beside your bed. His glasses low on his nose as he filled out a Sudoku book. Your Mom, the woman who helped raise you, walked in with a coffee, one for each of them. The quiet, thank you. A whispered kiss, before she settled into the small couch, pulling out her knitting. 

A sigh of relief, a first breath leaving your lungs. 

You’d survived another one, and hopefully this one wouldn’t give out on you. Hopefully. 

It seemed surreal now, how far everything had gone. How much farther it needed to go. 

Zemo didn’t know, at least that’s what Bucky was under the impression of. So his obsession with this heart, trying to harvest the traces of serum that flowed through your bloodstream had nothing to do with your lineage. 

“Hey.” Bucky was sitting out on the water, legs hanging off the side of the dock. “I thought you went to bed.” You shrug, sitting down next to him, thigh to thigh. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” Your breath came out in clouds. He nods in response, hands held in his lap, eyes unfocused out on the tree line. 

“I don’t hate you for it.” Bucky said after a while. “I just… I wanted you to know that.” Your fingers fisted in the sleeves of your sweater, you turn to look at him. Eyes red rimmed, the tip of his nose red from the cold. His eyes met yours, glossy. “I don’t blame you for this.” You press your lips together, swallowing harshly before letting out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry honestly.” He continues, “I shouldn’t have been the way I was when you first got the heart. None of this was fair to you.”

“I don’t blame you,” Your fingers find his own, cold, half numb. “I… this has been hard for both of us.” He goes to say something, but decides against it. His fingers intertwined with yours. 

“We might need to stay here for a while.” He said, “The others are going to go back to the compound, rebuild, save face.” His thumb brushed the back of your hand, calloused and rough against your skin. “We’ll stay here, train a little more. Zemo doesn’t know about this place.” He glanced back at what once was Tony’s cabin. “No one really knows about this place.” 

You take a deep breath, looking back out onto the still lake. And it was comfortable. For the first time in a long time you’d felt at peace. Content. And ready to move on.


	14. fourteen

He couldn’t see it before. 

But he could now. 

It was in the details. How you moved around the kitchen in the mornings, how you sat on the couch, the way you moved your fingers across his back as you passed him in the hall. It made sense. Whether nature versus nurture was more beneficial there was one true thing. You gained that from Steve and Peggy. The pure will and determination. The perseverance. The way he would lay you out on the mat and you’d get back up, the way you pushed to match his speed around the lake, and the way you argued with him. 

Incessantly. 

“I just think we could be helping a little more.” You shrug at him, dismissively. He could feel his jaw clench.

“We are doing what we are supposed to be doing right now.” Training, laying low. 

“Hiding.” You bite. “Letting Zemo’s fear tactic work.” Bucky rolled his eyes,

“Sam is taking care of that,” He threw back what remained of his coffee, the temperature still slightly too hot. It scalds his throat on the way down, an instant regret. “What we need to worry about is your training.”

The mat, a relic from Pepper and Tony training in a similar way to this right now, up here at the cabin with their small little family. A way to stay sharp. It was laid out next to the cabin on some flat ground. The thick black mat gave a little to your feet but was still firm enough to take the air from your lungs when your back would hit it. 

And you found your back against it, a lot. 

Bucky was relentless, but you already knew this. Icing muscles that would be healed by morning while watching the evening news. Eating enough food for your growing metabolism became a full day of constant snacking, a jug of water sat by your bed for when you woke at two am ravenously thirsty. 

“It’s like that at first,” He explains to you, “It’ll get better.” You had a hard time believing him when you then spilled said jug all over the floor of your room, you’d sopped it up with the towel you’d discarded from your earlier shower and took the soaking thing down to the laundry room, along with the rest of your laundry. A domestic task you hadn’t thought too much about until right now. 

The steps back up from the basement creaked and had dust footprints from where you must assume Bucky had done laundry earlier in the day, a couple of his shirts were hanging above the dryer still. He knew you were coming, but he still didn’t move or look up. 

Bucky sat in the kitchen, illuminated from the light on top of the stove, a steaming mug in front of him. A strange thing about Bucky is that he was really into loose leaf teas. There was a small cabinet in the compound filled with glass containers marked with chalk paint, along with measuring spoons and right below it a temperature controlled electric kettle. 

“Different teas brew at different temperatures.” He defended, not that you’d asked. But he said that they help calm him down at night, when it’s time to finally rest his mind. And he liked variety. 

“Can’t sleep?” You asked him, his slumped form looking tired, exhausted. 

“Had a video call with Sam.” His voice grumbled, raspy. “Only time he could get on.” Your gaze moved to the clock above the stove. It was almost five in the morning. You mourned the minutes you wouldn’t get to sleep because there was no point. Bucky stared at his mug for a moment more before looking back up at you and saying, “I’m gonna go back to bed.” 

“Are you okay?” Bucky never went back to bed. He was a strict, 5 am riser, didn’t go to sleep until 10. Every day. Every day that you knew him as long as he could help it. He had routine. He nods, taking a sip of tea and looking at you with half lidded eyes. 

“I’m fine.” 

_It was a quiet moment. Peaceful for the first time since he couldn’t remember. This was worth it. It was worth it. All the sacrifices he’d made. Everything he had to do to get here. All of the pain it initially caused him, culminating to this moment._

_Peggy was still recovering, asleep just feet away. The first night of good rest in a long time. All due to the small bundle laying on Steve’s chest. The bare skin to skin contact he remembered was really good for babies. Calming. There was a rattle in your lungs still and he wondered if this was what it was like with his own Mother._

_Did she lay awake just like this, constantly making sure he was still breathing? The worry that doesn’t go away. He thought about his baby every minute of every day. Is she still breathing? Is she hungry? Does she need to be changed?_

_He’d lay her out on a blanket in the living room. Her wide eyes watching him while he cleaned, cooing and babbling, wiggling on her belly or back. She was still so small, eating a couple ounces every few hours, needy, and cried more often than not._

_But this is why he came back. And it all made sense to him._

_He didn’t know he could love another person so much, and it terrifies him._

The lake was calm. In any other circumstance you would think this would be a nice vacation. A cabin in the middle of nowhere, on a beautiful lake somewhere lost in the woods of upstate New York. You could almost imagine it with a blanket of snow, thick on the ground. Sitting on the porch covered in a blanket with a hot cup of coffee, maybe some tea or hot chocolate. 

You loved these runs now. Running with Bucky was better, but without was okay. Relaxing even. Your thoughts go blissfully blank as you listen to the birds chirping, sun coming up over the horizon and bathing the sky in soft blue light. 

You’ve seen him in the corners of your eyes, but never face to face. Steve. Your father. His ghost having haunted you for months now seems to be keeping himself away. Maybe his intervention only came with the cost of crisis and high stress, none of which you’d been feeling since you got back to the cabin with Bucky after seeing your parents. 

Something seemed to shift between the two of you that soothed that yandere type want you had for him. 

Yes, you still loved him immensely, but now he wasn’t pushing you away. 

Not really. 

He was affectionate. Years of being touch-starved and lonely meant he would spend a lot of time in the same room, something always touching. A shoulder, a hand. Your cheeks have stopped heating up from the contact when he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger while reading. 

But there was something there. Something that made him pull back. A forgetfulness he’d lose himself in for a minute, before he’d pull away, leave the room, or bashfully apologize and try to explain the behavior away. 

It’s hard. You know that. It was hard for you too. Both of you hadn’t talked about it since. Just like Steve the conversation seemed to be absent. 

He apologized for how distant he’d been before. And now it was safe to say you’d call him a friend, but this nagging in your chest, that pull of wanting those touches and wanting to say, “I’m completely fine with you touching me.” But you don’t because you don’t know if that’s Steve talking or you. 

Which now that you’ve discovered your parentage seemed a little gross. Your biological father, Captain America, loved this man. But you were starting to think, maybe you do too. 

You thought in passing about Strange’s words. What they implied. If Steve didn’t go back he would lose everything. It gave you a sinking feeling in your gut. What does that mean? What difference would you make towards the future of this world? A world you wouldn’t exist in if Tony Stark and Scott Lang hadn’t invented a time machine. 

It seemed insane that you wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Thanos. 

You wouldn’t exist if Doctor Strange didn’t tell Steve to go back. 

Or if an older Steve didn’t tell Doctor Strange to tell the younger Steve to go back. 

It was complicated. 

But what seemed more complicated was Eric’s understanding of you not texting him back. 

“Don’t send anything out to him.” Bucky warned. Bucky was very clear about contact with people from the outside. The phone you’d been given was Stark technology, it was a closed and secure circuit for the most part, but Bucky didn’t trust Eric and he didn’t want to risk your location being given away just for you to tell him that you can’t talk right now. 

He didn’t seem to want to give up. You blocked his number this morning. 

“We’re going to work on your knife skills.” A brief flash of memory. The dexterity of his fingers flipping and tossing that knife from hand to hand throughout the fight. The ability of it was practiced and fluid. It was intimidating. “In the event you get close combat, we are going to pair your hand to hand skills and instead of you being on the defense it will give you leverage to take on the offense and take down your opponent.” 

Zemo was a fighter, but we’ve seen that he’s gotten men to do his dirty work for him. Never showing up, but having others show up to fight for his cause. 

“I just don’t know how I feel about stabbing someone.” You stand across from him on the mat, a dummy knife in his hand. His eyebrow raised, 

“You’ve crushed someone’s windpipe before.” 

“It was an accident.” You defended. “I wasn’t in control.” He stands still for a minute before sighing, 

“I don’t want you to have to stab anyone either,” honestly, “But in the event that it’s you or them… I’d rather you be prepared to take them down any way possible.” 

This little dummy knife fit in your hand like a real knife, but had a blunt end unable to actually harm someone other than a couple bruises. Yeah, you could probably crush someone’s windpipe with this, but you quickly dismiss the thought and look back up at Bucky. He had an identical dummy knife. You watched his fingers flip the dummy knife back and forth over his hand. Over and under his fingers, smooth and easy. 

“It’s an extension of your arm.” He explains. “You should think of it that way, make sure you keep a steady grip, not too tight but not loose either.” 

The sun was hot on your back, mid spring in full swing the temperatures were rising to mid-60s and 70s every day. You could feel the sweat running down your back as you flipped the dummy knife from one hand, trying to catch it with the other, Bucky’s elbow meeting your stomach, the dummy knife falling and your back hitting the mat, wheezing. 

“You’re overthinking.” His hand gripped your forearm, your hand gripping his as he pulled you up from the mat. “You can do this. Try again.” 

A reset in stance, you tried to remember the first time Steve saw him again. When he was still the Winter Soldier. The way he fought. It’s the same way he fights now, the style ingrained in him from 70 years of practice. The Winter Soldier did well on the offense, he came in hot, overpowering. That’s what Bucky still does and he didn’t like being on the defense which had been shown to you when he taught you hand to hand. 

Bucky was good at gaining the offense and backing people into a corner. That’s what he’s teaching you to do. Gain the offense, take down your opponent, don’t let them keep you on the defense. 

You need to run at him first. And you do, your arm goes up ready to bring the ‘knife’ into his shoulder, his arm coming up to block, you drop the ‘knife’ from your right hand down to your left, waiting, bringing the ‘knife’ to his gut. His hand grabs your wrist, you twist your body to make his grip awkward and yours sure. A pause. Unsure what to do. That’s your mistake. His elbow meets your arm, the nerves of your arm spasming and releasing the dummy knife, his foot meets the back of your knee and causes you to drop, your knee giving out and putting you in a lunge on the mat. 

“How do you recover?” He pauses. You have one free hand, his body is above yours, standing firm and gripping your captured wrist tightly. You debate for a second, taking your free hand to mimic a cheap shot without actually hitting him where it really hurts, his hips back away from your oncoming fist regardless, at the same time dropping your weight down and dragging him to the floor. You quickly grab the discarded dummy knife, flipping him onto his stomach and twisting your fingers into his hair, sitting on the middle of his back you grip the strands tightly and yank his head back, sticking the ‘knife’ to his throat. 

A pause to catch your breath before releasing his hair and rolling off of his back, staring up at the sky beginning to gather clouds. 

“Good job.” A sigh as he rolled onto his back beside you. “You’re getting better.” 

“What did Sam say this morning?” You asked, both of you now rolling the mat to save it from the oncoming rain. Bucky lifted the mat over his shoulder, bringing it up onto the porch and depositing it on the side of the house. 

“He wanted to check in, they’re finishing up cleaning Times Square and they’ve had meetings with Pepper about donation money.” There’s guilt in your gut, acidic and raw. And as if reading your mind he continued, “We didn’t know he was going to do this Y/N. You didn’t know he was going to do this.” That’s what probably hurt the most. Not having the control to stop something so horrifying. 

You almost watched the news to punish yourself at this point. The death toll. People crying about missing family members. Bucky had caught you more than once, scolding you, shutting off the tv before pulling you into his side and giving you a minute to cry. It was heartbreaking. But you couldn’t help it. 

The guilt festered in your stomach. It ate at you relentlessly. You wanted to get out there. You wanted to stop him, but was that nature or nurture? With the revelation of your parentage you wondered if it was the biology or the heart giving you an intense craving for justice. 

“I have to make this right.” You told him. The sun setting below the horizon, Bucky took a step towards you on the porch, placing his hands just above your elbows. “I can’t let him get away with this.”

“And we won’t.” He soothes, “But I’m not going to put you in danger.” You scoff, removing yourself from his grip. 

“The people in Times Square weren’t given a choice.” You could see his jaw clench, the muscles twitching. “What else did Sam say?” Bucky tugged his bottom lip between his teeth before sucking in making a ‘tsk’ sound. 

“They’re closing in on Tanzania, where Zemo has some allies. They’re trying to get confirmation on the gun running they’re doing there…” Bucky’s eyes looked over your shoulder, sighing, before returning to yours. “We think he’s also trafficking humans.” Funding an international crime ring was hard work. You could taste the bile bubbling in your stomach. 

“So what do we do?” 

“Sam is taking care of it.” 

“So nothing?” Bucky rolled his eyes, hands on his hips, a heavy sigh, “Bucky, I’m just saying, we’ve been out here for almost two weeks. I’ve improved. I literally took you down just forty minutes ago.” 

“Because you needed a win.” He admits. 

“So you let me take you down?” The anger was palpable. You knew he could feel it. You felt confident after holding that dummy knife to his throat. You felt like you could actually do something, actually maybe defend yourself, and apparently you were wrong. 

“Yes.” 

You turned abruptly, taking a step away from him before making a split second decision. You turned back quickly, throwing a fist at his face. One he easily dodged, bringing your other hand to meet his dodge, having him lean into the fist coming to his gut. A step backward. His arm reaches out, going to grab your arm but you drop down, foot hooking around the back of his knee, yanking forward he falls off balance. A quick flip and he regains composure, coming forward to grab your wrists quickly. He crosses them, spinning you around to hold your back against his chest, wrapping your arms around your body. You push off the ground, hard, butting your head against his nose and knocking the both of you to the ground as his grip didn’t relent. 

“Y/N, stop!” He grips you tighter, the muscles in your shoulders straining in his grip. It was a blindingly clear sign. You weren’t ready. And it was endlessly frustrating. Hot tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You stopped struggling. His grip loosened. “It’s okay,” He says, “You’re okay.” He was bent over your back, legs framing yours, arms still wrapped around you. The tears didn’t fall this time. Your heavy breathing synced with his and you leaned back against him, resting the back of your head against his shoulder, looking back out onto the lake, the sky now dark. 

“Listen to me,” he says, “We are going to stop him.” His thumb softly tracing your skin. “We are all doing what we can right now, and I need you to understand that doing what you can doesn’t mean you’re not doing anything.” 

“You said that to Steve.” His hold loosened. You turned to look him in the eyes, his lips parted, close. “I’m not Steve.” 

“I know you’re not-”

“No,” You shake your head, “I don’t think you do.” You push yourself up from the ground, heading towards the front door, and into the house. 

…

“This is Atlas, checking in.” The recording started, “Moves are being made. It should be time to progress with the plan, but I’ve hit a small snag. I’m sure I can get it worked out shortly in one way or another.” A pause. “Cell 229 has been compromised.” 

Zemo clicked off the recording, before replaying. 

“This is Atlas, checking in…”


	15. fifteen

“What are you trying to tell me?” The drip from the faucet like white noise in the background, you were startled by him. Heart leaping in your chest as he stepped from the shadows of the kitchen, cornering you at the sink. Steve. Your Father. A sad expression on his face. His hand cups your cheek, cold, barely there. His eyes searching yours. “Dad?” And he’s gone. Bucky stands in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” He steps into the room, looking around, “Who are you talking to?” You feel dumb, like you’d been caught with an imaginary friend. You shake your head, turning from him and turning the faucet on, resuming washing your dishes. You hear Bucky sigh heavily behind you. “How long are you going to be angry with me?” 

_“How long are you going to be angry with me?” Your breath was rattling as you washed the dishes in the sink. As Steve washed his dishes in the sink._

You didn’t reply. 

_Steve didn’t reply. ___

__“I know you’re not Steve, Y/N.” Trust me, I know. Unspoken._ _

___“You said you didn’t care.” Bucky didn’t understand, he could never understand. Of course you cared. ____ _

____“That’s not the point.” You hastily dry the pot with a dishcloth, placing it back on the hook above the kitchen island._ _ _ _

_____“You knew I cared but you did it anyway.” Steve turned at the sink, bracing his hands behind him on the counter. ____ _ _ _

______“You said you didn’t care.” Bucky stated slowly, still not understanding._ _ _ _ _ _

_______“But you knew I did.” ____ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m not a mind reader, Y/N, I don’t know what you want me to do or what you want me to say to make you happy.” You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You say that I’m strong and I’m improving, but you let me win and go easy on me in everything we do.” You take a step closer, “You say you trust me, but you keep the truth from me.” Another step, “You treat me like I’m Steve back in 1940 and you have to protect me from some big bad truth.” You roll your shoulders back, trying to relieve some tension, “I am struggling with everything that is going on and now that it’s just you and me you’re acting like…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Like what?” You could see the flush on his neck. The anger he was trying to hide._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“You’re acting like you don’t know how I feel.” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You’re acting like you don’t know how I feel.” You shake your head, “I can’t tell the difference sometimes, I’m always second guessing if it’s my thought or his. I know I’m not ready to take down an international crime ring, but I’m not completely useless. You asked me what I was going to do with this second chance, I think this is it.” Your hands on the counter, leaning across and looking at him. His anger washed away, a strange look on his face. “I think this is what I was supposed to be doing with my life all along.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He remembers saying that to you what feels like a lifetime ago. In the coffee shop when he was trying to reconcile his anger towards Steve. Anger towards himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“So what are you going to do with your life now?”_ An accusation. The knowledge that you’d done nothing up until that point. And now with this legacy, who your birth parents were, who you were, he could see the tension in your shoulders. He felt like a dick. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m sorry.” Slipped from his mouth before he could articulate anything else, “I know this is hard for you,” He wanted to hold you, a comfort to relax your shoulders, relax the crease on your brow. But he pushed that feeling down, stepping closer. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.” He could feel your body heat, you turned to face him, hip resting against the counter. “You’re excelling, honestly. And it scares me.” Fuck this was hard. “It’s not that you’re not ready… the truth is I’m not ready for you to go out there.” He watched your mouth part, your eyes meeting his, he didn’t know if he could go on, “I’m not going to say that I’m not going to try to protect you, because I can’t do that…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________but I will try to be more honest with what you can handle.” Your hand placed itself on his arm, a shiver down his spine, his hand covered yours. “But I need you to talk to me and be honest in return. You don’t tell me everything, you keep secrets too.” Which wasn’t a lie._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________You haven’t told him about any memories lately. You hadn’t even brought up Steve since finding out, but neither of you did. Him out of respect for you, you out of fear that you’d break this fragile newborn relationship._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“So we’ll both try.” His thumb brushing the back of your hand. He nods,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We’ll both try.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“What happened to you in there?” It was cold here. Muddy. You were back in Europe. Steve was in Europe. The tent. Bucky was a little thin, his eyes tired. You noticed him staring off into space more than once since you’d gotten back from rescuing the 107th. He sat opposite you on his cot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________He shakes his head, “I don’t remember most of it.” He was mumbling his name and service number when you’d found him. A repetition to imbed memory. Trying to keep his head on right and remember who he was. “I don’t remember a lot of it.” He swallows. But you both know it wasn’t good. “What happened to you?” A redirection. Bucky didn’t want to talk about it anymore._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Erskine.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Who?” Your throat is tight with the memory of his death, dying in your arms for his cause. You were his life’s success._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“This Doctor,” You sigh, unlacing your boots. “He created this serum that… turned me into this.” Bucky hummed. “It’s insane Buck, I can breathe, I’m strong…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“You grew by a foot.” He joked. Steve smiled across at him. “You saved my life, all of our lives.” By himself. Steve nods, hands gripping the edge of the cot. “Steve…” Your heart was racing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________This was what confused you the most. Did you love Bucky? Or was that just Steve? You look across at him as Steve, as your father. A blink. Bucky becomes Steve and you’re left sitting there in army fatigues. Red and white stripes on your belly. A star on the helmet next to your hip._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Steve?” You ask. He looks tired, looking up at you. The way he looked when he’d given you away. “Dad?” His knuckles growing white, his mouth opens and he says,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“You have to succeed where I failed.” Tears in his eyes, “You have to be better than me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Your fist met his side and he released a grunt. Bucky’s hand came and wrapped around your side, using momentum to flip you over and make you lose balance, your back hit the mat. You roll quickly, his fist hitting the mat where your face had just been, sweeping your leg out and hooking around the back of his knee, jerking forward to drop him to the mat, pulling his legs quickly to wrap your thighs around his torso, squeezing his arms to his chest. His thighs wrap around your own torso, pinning you down as well. And you’re both stuck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He taps your leg twice and you both release, rolling off him to lay back on the mat, catching your breath._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What do you want to do for dinner?” He pants._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________You were starving and eating a bowl of cereal while Bucky rolled meatballs. A comfortable silence between you as the news rambled idly in the background._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“The Stark foundation has pledged almost a billion dollars into relief for families affected by the tragedy…” The newscaster reported, your eyes leaving his hands to look over at the screen. The recording of construction and clearing rubble in Times Square. It was almost ready to rebuild, the entire city working endlessly to get the bodies out. To clear the area. If there was anything that tragedy does, it unifies. “Secretary Ross has issued a statement stating they are working closely with the Avengers to find the cause behind the attack and bringing…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Change the channel.” Bucky’s voice gruff, you sigh, flipping it to HGTV. Mindlessness of a couple looking for a 500k house and arguing about whether or not they want a pool._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Have you talked to Sam?” The meatballs are searing in a pan. Bucky nods,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, this morning.” Before you got up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Anything about moving in on Tanzania?” He peered over to you before focusing back on the food._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“They’re planning something this week,” He flips the meatballs. “But they have to be careful…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“The girls.” Human trafficking. It made you sick. But you could just assume Zemo saw it as a means to an end. An easy way to make a lot of money quickly. It was the tip of the iceberg, the underbelly of the operation still unfound. Yes, Zemo wanted to try and synthesize more serum, but the big picture was unclear. Was all of this really to just seek revenge on the Avengers?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah,” Bucky lets out a heavy sigh. “They have to make sure they can get them out of there safely.” You bite on your bottom lip, anxious._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I had a dream last night.” You say, he looked over his shoulder at you, brow raised. “A Steve dream… a memory.” He doesn’t speak for a moment,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What was it about?” He turns his back to you, focusing on cooking. A way to create distance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Austria.” You wait for a reaction, but if he had one you didn’t see it. “After he rescued you and the rest of the 107th…” Being in this time, now, here, you know what happened to Bucky there. The torture. The serum injected into his own veins. The serum that he survived. Others hadn’t been so lucky. It’s where the beginning of the brainwashing started. Those repetitions of name and service number being the only thing keeping him somewhat sane, tied to the present. “But it was different…” How do you tell him you were seeing a ghost?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Different how?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“He talked to me.” Bucky turned to you at this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“He talked to you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“He told me that I need to succeed where he failed… that I need to be better than he was?” You shake your head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“But this was just like a dream?” You worry your bottom lip further._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No… it’s a little more complicated than that.” You watch him work, boiling pasta, he gives you time to put your words together. “He reaches out to me I think… these memories… I think he’s showing me them for a reason.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“How long have you thought that?” Since he started appearing to you like some kind of spectre, but for the sake of not seeming absolutely insane you reply,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Recently,” You shrug. “I mean when Strange told me about my parentage the memory was revealed to me… and last night… I have a bad feeling.” That was the truth. “I think something bad is about to happen.” Bucky stares at you for a moment, the water bubbling behind him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The phone rings._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Bucky looked at the lit up screen. An unknown number. With bated breath he waits, letting it go to voicemail, before it rings again. And again. And again. Until he shuts it off altogether. He looks at you, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. A knock on the door. Harsh._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Grab your bag.” Food forgotten on the stove he grabs your arm tightly, dragging you from the stool you were sitting on and directing you to the rear of the house where two go bags were waiting. A gun slipped from the waistband of his jeans, you see him pressing himself against the wall. You strap the bag to your chest, buckling it tightly. Hand holding the heavy metal in your own sweaty grip, finger aside the trigger just in case._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________You kept your ears open, like he taught you. You could hear footsteps around the house. There was more than one person here. Another set of harsh knocks, escalating into bangs, the front door protesting with the assault. They were trying to break it down. Most likely they had people in the front, and a group at the back just in case. Bucky wasn’t going to be able to help both you and himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________You were going to have to fight your way out of here._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He looks back at you, having realized the same thing you did. You lean over and grab his bag, tossing it in his direction just as the door was broken down, turning to aim your gun at the back door, shooting through it at the group you knew was outside. It grew loud. Bucky was handling at least five men in the front, you burst through the door in the back, a man laying on the ground bloodied. But you didn’t have time for that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________There were ten men total. Enough to overwhelm Bucky enough that they could have slipped away with you. But manageable when you worked together._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________An elbow to your face as you exit the house, the gun in your hand fires, shooting him in the shoulder. The last round in the magazine. Gun dropped, knife slipped from your thigh. You caught one man in the arm, nicking his brachial artery, and imbed the knife in the shoulder of another man who wrapped you in a chokehold, the knife tearing at the joint as you flipped him over your shoulder and onto the ground. Bucky, you could hear him behind you, his hands damp with blood, gripping your arm, bullet piercing the last man in front of you before leading you into the woods._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I tripped the silent alarm so Sam knows.” His breaths heavy as he led you through the dark to a destination you didn’t know about. A jet in the middle of the woods. “We have to get to another safehouse.” It was only when the jet doors closed and he took his place in the pilot’s seat did he begin to show his anger. “Who did you contact?” You shift the pack from your back to dump heavily at your feet, sinking into the co-pilot chair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I didn’t contact anyone.” You glare at him, his face red. He returns your glare._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Then how did they find us Y/N?” The whir of the jet coming to life, you’d buckled yourself in while he continued, “We were in a secure location, the only way they would have found us is if–”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I didn’t contact anyone.” You spat. “What about your calls with Sam? How secure are they, really? Stop yelling at me.” His knuckles were white on the throttle, the jet soon flying over open water and into cloud coverage. “Where are we going?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He was trying to calm himself down. The panic and adrenaline of trying to get both of you out of there, if he hadn’t been holding the throttle his hands would be shaking. Someone sold them out. Someone told Zemo where your safehouse was. Someone knew where they’d been keeping you. His circuit with Sam was closed and conversations lasted less than two minutes at a time to hinder outside tracing. Someone on the inside had to be leaking information. And Bucky had an idea of who but first,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We’re going to Europe.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Everything is going according to plan.” The recording started, “The safehouse was compromised, it left them no other option than to flee. They should be on their way to you now.” A pause, for effect. “I will get myself onto the team, location should follow. We have nine casualties.” Nine men taken down by Bucky Barnes? “The girl has been trained.” Zemo’s jaw clenched. “I’ve heard a rumor, will further seek to confirm.” Another pause. “Asset has relation to Steve Rogers… she’s believed to be his child, sir… Atlas signing off.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Go get changed.” Bucky had the jet on autopilot. Smooth sailing across the Atlantic, “It’s cold where we are going,” and an afterthought, “There’s protein bars in your bag if you’re hungry.” You silently mourned your dinner, belly growling at the thought of eating the meatballs and pasta Bucky had been making while you ate the dense, chewy, Avengers issued protein block._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________You’d both left your phones behind. The jet is the only thing that could be traceable, “When we land we have a way of travel before we reach our destination,” He said, “So you should get some sleep.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I didn’t contact anyone.” You said softly. He looked at you, arms crossed, he looked so tired._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I know you didn’t… I’m sorry.” You place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I can watch this for a little if you want to sleep.” You offer, but he’s stubborn. He shakes his head,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ll be fine, get some rest.” You want to do it. You want to so badly. So you do. You slip into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. For a moment there he stiffens, before relaxing, uncrossing his arms and bringing them to hold you back. You sit there for a minute, the little shakes of wind around the jet, soft lights on the control panel. His head falls to your shoulder, arms tightening, you lay your head over his. Eyes growing heavy, his hand softly rubs your back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I just want this to be over.” You mumble. He takes a long breath, you could hear him speak into your neck, warm and it makes you shiver,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Me too.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	16. sixteen

Bucky wasn’t exaggerating. It was freezing here. The thermal layers you’d buried yourself in along with the coat stored on the jet helped keep your body warm, but your face almost burned in the wind, eyes watering. It was snowing here and you silently mourned the late spring sun you’d been enjoying at the cabin. 

He trekked before you, leading the way on a trail into the mountains. He said it wasn’t far, but you were starting to feel strange. Your anxiety was restless. Something looming under your skin. In the distance you could see it growing closer, a set of steel doors built into the side of the mountain, thick with snow and ice. No one had been here for a while. 

A keypad, hidden under the ice chipped away by his knife, DNA scanning that cracked the ice on the doors, snow falling off in sheets as they opened, a dark interior revealed.

“Stay sharp.” Just in case. Just in case there was someone else in here. Bucky entered with his gun up, flashlight held above, scanning each room as you walked by. There were old offices, files scattered on the ground like someone had left abruptly. Medical rooms with dated and rusted supplies, fresh off the set of a vintage movie. It seemed almost unreal. Each room that led you into the belly of the hideaway, a chair and a crest in one wall, embedded into the concrete. Hydra. 

_You had to do it. You couldn’t help it._

_Natasha leaked all Hydra files with the fall of the triskelion. SHIELD was disbanded. Bucky was out there somewhere and Sam was helping you look for him, but in the meantime. You pace in front of your computer. Could you do this?_

_Could you watch? You had to. It was your fault after all. You had to look. You couldn’t live yourself if you didn’t look._

_So he did._

_The video starts the same as all the other videos will start, and ends in the same way all the other videos end. You watch Bucky being dragged in, fresh from cryostasis. There’s still ice in his hair. His skin pale and cheeks pink. Eyes hollow. He’s pushed back into this chair, head lolling to the side. His brain disoriented and swimming with clouds, everything coming sharp and into focus as a tooth guard is placed in his mouth._

_You watch his breathing grow heavier, his arms restrained, head hitting the back of the chair harshly. He knows what’s coming._

_And the screams._

_Steve hears them in his nightmares. You hear them in your nightmares. You can’t breathe._

It sits there, illuminated by your flashlight. A silent offender. If you could destroy things with your mind, you’d have torn the chair apart by now the way you were staring at it. Bucky continued to check rooms. This chair sat in the middle of the area. Almost like your nemesis in the big climax confrontation. You couldn’t hear Bucky moving around, but you could sense him. You could almost feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up, because yours was too. 

Why did he bring you here? 

This old Hydra base that no one had seemed to be in for a decade or more. A hum as a flip is switched and the generator kicks on. A musty smell coming from the vents where warm air soon begins to pour out. He drops his pack heavily behind you, trying to shake your gaze away from the chair you’d been staring blankly at, flashlight held in a loose hand. 

“It’s fine.” Maybe he lied, maybe he is a mind reader, “Y/N, sweetheart, it’s fine.” The gentleness of his hand tugging the flashlight from yours, switching it off to conserve battery. You look over at him and meet his eyes. 

“Why are we here?” That came out harsh, internally you cringe. He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, chapped and tugging on the dry skin. 

“Once a Hydra base falls SHIELD used to rewire them as safe houses.” Simple. “And once SHIELD fell… the Avengers destroyed most of them, converted the rest.” 

“So why is that still here?” You could hear the ghost of his scream. An echo reverberating off the concrete walls and chilling your bones. Bucky shrugs, 

“I don’t think they clean it up,” He offers, “They just give access to those on the team if we need it.” 

The temperature slowly began to rise and outer layers were discarded. Bucky was working intensely on the computer in the main room, an old junker that was still in black and green. A Commodore 64. An old 80′s junk computer and you didn’t even know how it still worked. Code. Which is insane considering, Hydra taught him code. 

You knew he was smart. 

Steve knew he was smart. 

Bucky was always excelling at science and math. It’s what made him a good sniper, being able to calculate trajectories with wind and speed. He was smart before Hydra scrambled his brain, but he’d adapted to technology over the years. Whenever they brought him out of the ice they had to keep him up to date in order to keep him working. 

He was slamming code into it faster than you could read. “A transmission to a private server,” He said, which would then scramble the signal, send it to another private server to be scrambled again, and then directed to Sam. Not even Sam would know where you were but he would know through code words designed by the two of them, that you were safe and awaiting further instruction. 

“You need to sleep when that’s done.” You tell him, standing behind and peering over his shoulder at the mass of numerical and special signs being stamped into the computer screen. 

He’d put a room together before entering in that code, right off the main room, one that lead to a clear exit. The two cots holding your bags pushed together. “It’s going to still be a little cold until tomorrow.” He explained, and your quick escape to this poorly stocked safe house meant no blankets and MREs that you were sure expired a long time ago. 

You crawled into the bed, the cot springs screaming in protest, surely rusted. He wasn’t wrong. Concrete hardly held in heat, the slow pouring of an old heating system wouldn’t make the large space livable for a couple days. You’d covered yourself with your coat, curling up into yourself and trying to tuck your feet under, but was unsuccessful. You lay there for a minute, nose cold and breaths still coming out in little puffs, before slowly slipping into sleep. 

…

“Are you ready?” The air was cooling off, the hot Sahara sun slowly giving way to a tepid night. Sam couldn’t help but catch a chill. The jets were circling, ready to drop them in the middle of it. The flat plain that they couldn’t traverse on foot less be seen by the guard posts. Sharon stood next to him, hands on her hips and peering out the front window into the purple sky, sun finally sun below the horizon enough to not be seen. She was looking at him for direction, the plan laid out. Just waiting for the cover of darkness to move in close.

Sam’s shield had never felt heavier. 

For a moment he wished he had Steve’s drive. The guy could always come up with something and had a legacy of inspiring his teammates. Sam had a nagging feeling in his gut that made him feel like he fell short of that legacy. Maybe Steve picked wrong, maybe it was a mistake. Sometimes. Only sometimes did he feel that way. But his gut was telling him to be wary of this mission. It was big, and there were hostages. The casualties could be high, but not if he couldn’t help it. 

“We move in 10.” His timbre over the comms. He was still worried about you and Bucky, the alarm being tripped, he knew you were on the move but he didn’t know where Bucky was taking you. It also gave him a mistrust in his own team, which isn’t ideal when heading into a high stress situation. 

He would lead first, jumping from the plane and into the midst of a fight that needed to be handled quickly, and quietly. Raising an alarm would hinder the most important part of the mission and that’s getting the victims of trafficking out and safe, alive. 

The sun slowly sunk further and further below the horizon, the lasting beams fading out into a pitch black, the stars the only thing lighting up the night sky. It was time. 

As the jets moved closer and closer to the drop-off point Sam’s adrenaline began to rise. Hands shaking. There was a lot at stake here. But he wouldn’t get a chance to touch ground, save the hostages, disband the base, because as soon as the jets began to move in close a warning came in. 

“Incoming missile detected.” 

…

Back in the apartment, back in the 40′s before Bucky went off to war, Steve and Bucky would sometimes share a bed. And even before Bucky received a bootleg super serum he’d burn like a furnace in the night, or maybe he’d been normal and Steve had just been freezing. 

You woke up impossibly warm, your face buried into his shoulder. His musk was familiar. Unchanged in 80 years. You bury yourself in further and notice his coat lay over top of you as well. Your nose barely poking out from under your own coat, he lay on his back, one hand under his pillow, the metal digits a hair away from a hidden handgun, the other under your head, your cheek on his bicep. 

You marveled at how well you slept. You didn’t even hear him come in, you didn’t feel him scoot up next to you. You didn’t know when you’d cuddled up to him. But you didn’t mind it at all. You savored it for a moment. Clearly understanding something for the very first time. 

Steve mourned his loss. He mourned Bucky in his memories. And he loved your mother in the end. He lived out the rest of his life with her even after giving you up. He was buried next to her now. He would always love Bucky, sure. But he made a life without him and moved on because that was what was best for him. 

Strange said something like, “If you stay you’ll lose everything.” So he chose to leave and for what? For you. 

It was a rare moment of clarity, struck into you like lightening into the sand, forming something new and fragile, not yet cool. You look on his face, his cheeks and nose a dusting of pink from the chill, lashes laying long on his cheeks, the steady calm breaths through his nose, his hair a mess and sticking up in multiple directions from movement in his sleep which you’re sure led you both into this position. It was the realization that these weren’t Steve’s feelings towards Bucky. 

They were your own. 

It was startling. The mud you’d been wading through finally scraped from your shoes. You were sure they were your Father’s leftover affection for him at first, but when did it change? When did you finally feel it for yourself and not because you knew that Steve loved him? That you didn’t know, but you guessed it didn’t matter. You leaned further into his arm, moving your cheek onto his shoulder, his arm subconsciously coming to wrap further around you, pinning you to his chest. Your vision hazing as you fall back asleep. 

…

“He should have answered me by now.” Bucky was biting on the skin of his thumb, nervously. The pacing, the endless pacing as you spooned the lukewarm MRE pasta into your mouth. Something he assured you was safe to eat. You finish your bite before saying, 

“Maybe he was moving in on Tanzania last night.” You offer, “Maybe that’s why.” The building was a tolerable cold, but still not entirely comfortable. You wore your coat, sitting in a desk chair near the computer he’d sent the message out on. The metal chair, the one that was the source of abuse and Bucky’s trauma, lay on its side and pushed against the far wall. A dent and chipped concrete where it looked like it was thrown. 

It was like that when you’d gotten up this morning. You didn’t ask about it. 

Bucky paused as if debating, “Maybe.” A sigh. “If he doesn’t respond by tomorrow…” You’d have to move on. He sighs, head in his hands and settles into the seat across from you. 

He didn’t make it weird, waking up with you the way he did. Breath on his neck and your fingers holding onto his shirt. It was nice. He’d admit that. He’d come into the room to see you shivering in your sleep and cursed himself for not pulling himself out of his own shit fast enough to help you. 

He had struggled with his demons coming here, the wallowing in self-pity soon swallowed with the fact that he wasn’t that person anymore. His therapist would tell him that he was never that person. It wasn’t actually him. 

But it was. 

The blood that stained his hands was spilled from that chair. One of many he was sure. Each base having their own, he was shipped like hardware from base to base, a tool in a toolbox for Pierce to use. For all of Hydra to use to progress their life’s mission. 

These men, the ones that joined Zemo, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind that he would recognize some of them. Men that had spat on him, directed his movements, were part of his team and a fallen empire for a life they knew nothing without. He couldn’t feel bad for them. 

He’d felt your eyes on him as he drifted in and out of sleep, always on edge just in case. The off chance you’d been followed and someone tried to attack while the two of you slept. A moment, he could feel his cheeks heat up, and then you nestled yourself closer to him. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat as you placed your face into his neck. 

He lay there awake, holding you for an hour more before forcing himself out of the rickety old cot and checking the perimeter. 

It was still snowing heavily when he walked outside, braving it without a coat while letting you rest. The cold didn’t get to him as badly as it used to. He could be cold. He could be uncomfortable and be fine. The coast was clear and when he’d returned inside you were awake and spinning left to right in the desk chair, gazing blankly at the floor. 

“Are you okay?” He’d asked. Your gaze not moving from the floor, you nod, 

“Yeah,” Eyes drifting up to his, “Are you?” You were bundled in your coat and you’d put your boots back on. He hadn’t realized it was that cold. He felt himself nod. 

“Are you hungry?” You ate in silence and he tried to drown the urge to pull you in closer than you were. Maybe under the guise of being cold. He had to come up with a plan, where to go after this. Where to run. 

…

If the Avengers were anything, it was predictable. That was the wild part about it. How easy it had been, after years of studying and tracking patterns. How easy it had been to find what they were looking for, and to duplicate it. The girl, Zemo muses, was a bonus. He didn’t really need her, not really. A plan already in motion. 

In the mountains, water vapor rose into the sky, the heat coming from the boiler exhaust. They were where he’d expected him to go. A Hydra facility buried in Bucky’s brain through years and years of electric shocks and torture by the hands of Alexander Pierce. He knew this is where Bucky would take her. This is where he wanted him to take her after all. 

Zemo flexed his hands in his leather gloves, before turning to his team behind him. “Let’s move.”

Bucky Barnes helped him destroy the Avengers the first time. And he’d help him do it again.


	17. seventeen

You were cold. So fucking cold. That is the first thing you noticed. The second thing was the splitting headache, your throat raw and it was painful to breathe. A broken rib, maybe two. It hurt, badly. The ribs were already healing, you would feel fine by tomorrow. But you did not know if you had that much time.

It started with smoke. A hissing sound that caused Bucky’s eyes to widen before he quickly jumped into action, but it was useless. The gas cannisters took him out quickly, but maybe that was your fault. His guard was down. You had been so close.

“Have you had any new memories lately?” Just yesterday you had talked to him about seeing Austria. The mountains. You had talked to him about how you felt, only slightly. Steve trying to convey a message you were piecing together, but barely. You felt like you were missing something, but the memories no longer cause seizures. You would not even blink.

Like when you saw the chair. You immediately remembered the videos of Bucky screaming and writhing against his restraints. You remembered the acrid taste in Steve’s mouth. The acidic bile he threw up afterward. You could remember the guilt. That was the forefront of most of these memories Steve had shown you. The guilt of not going back for Bucky. The guilt of falling short of saving him in the first place.

These pieces you could not quite fit together.

“How badly did it hurt?” You asked him. His eyes widening a fraction before glancing over at the chair. The busted thing you knew he had thrown. You almost regret asking the question, but then he answered.

“It was blinding pain.” His voice raspy and serious, “Like someone was driving an ice pick into my head.” That was something Steve did not know. Never able to brooch the subject. Never able to ask. The guilt had been too much, but it simmered below the surface of your skin. The rational thought that you had not even been born yet. You could not have possibly done anything. “Sometimes I still get migraines because of it.”

You rolled your chair closer, your legs between his knees. He placed a hand on your knee and rubbed assuringly like, I’m okay, it’s fine. You place your hand over his and sigh,

“He felt so guilty,” You say, “Like he was the reason why all of this happened to you.” His hand tightened on your knee.

“Hydra is the reason all of this happened to me.” An incredulous statement, like how could Steve even imagine that any of this was his fault? “If Hydra hadn’t existed… none of this would be happening right now.”

“Do you really think that?” Bucky looked at you, plainly.

“If Hydra didn’t exist both me and Steve would be dead by now.” He shrugs, “You’d have grandkids by now, great grandkids maybe.”

“If Hydra didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be alive.” You reason, “Steve wouldn’t have married Peggy… and even if he did I would have died before I even became a teenager…”

“Steve would have married Peggy,” Bucky shakes his head, “He was always super strait-laced…”

“I don’t think he’s was as strait-laced as you think he was.” His eyes meet yours, both of his hands on your knees now, thumbs tracing patterns. “If he hadn’t told himself to go back…” You lick your lips and tug on your bottom lip between your teeth, “If Strange hadn’t told him to go back…”

“You would have never been born.” Bucky’s voice firm, he sighs. “I’m done with ‘what-ifs’, you’re here for a reason, and I believe that.” The two of you are close, heat lining the air between your bodies.

“Bucky…”

“I’m… I loved Steve.” He says, his eyes glossy, “I really did, and I thought when we said ‘til the end of the line that we meant it, but he reached his end before I did and…”

“Bucky,” You cup his cheek, the rough stubble from his unshaved skin prickling your palm, his eyes search yours, your thumb brushing his bottom lip. You almost kissed. It was almost a very real thing that very nearly happened.

But then the gas.

He had thrown you behind him when they beat their way into your hiding area. You had your ribs cracked under someone’s boot. Blue electricity through the air from a device they had attached to Bucky’s arm. You blacked out hearing a yell, the crack of his knees on the concrete.

And you desperately needed water. Your throat was on fire. It hurt to move, to adjust yourself to sit up against the wall. Your hands were restrained behind you and your legs were tied at the ankles. Metal cuffs.

Your neck was sore from the position you had been laying in. It was the same room you had shared with Bucky just hours earlier. The beds were pushed into the far corner, but your packs had been removed. It was just you and the bed. The door shut.

You looked up at the vents in the ceiling, big enough to fit through if you could somehow get these cuffs off. You wondered where Bucky was. And if he was doing alright. You wondered when Zemo was going to come in here to make his big calculated speech, tell you his plans. He wasn’t one to get his hands dirty so most likely he’ll have some goon with him to knock you around a little.

Your blood. You didn’t feel sore anywhere, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t draw any. It could have healed by now. You move your wrists in the restraints, the cold metal not giving you much leeway. It was a lock pin mechanism, something that would be easy to pick if you had something to pick it with.

The door opens.

First a man, broad shouldered and tall, muscular. Then Zemo himself. You settled back on your heels, looking the man straight into his eyes. Face to face for the first time in this lifetime. You feel your jaw clench.

A small smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “So is it true?” He starts, stepping towards you, “The little rumor I’ve heard?” You don’t answer but you’re sure he doesn’t expect you to. He squats in front of you, gripping your chin and turning your face side to side. “You’re the child of Steve Rogers?” He frowns, “I don’t really see it.” Your jaw pushed to the side, neck twinging from the force.

He stands up. 

“You’re a lot less talkative than I thought you’d be.” He takes a step back, “You don’t have any questions for me? What am I doing here? How did I find you? What do I plan on doing with you?” He shrugs, “Nothing?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me regardless.” You glare. He smiles, the man beside him walks forward and connects his fist with your jaw. You fall to the side, blood pooling in your mouth from your cheek being cut on your teeth, you move yourself back into your knees and you spit the blood onto Zemo’s shoes. Clear anger on his face.

He grabs your jaw, tugging your face to look up at him.

“I’m going to kill all of your friends,” Very calm, level, “I will dissolve the Avengers as an entire association, do you understand?” You could hear a scream. Bucky’s scream in the background through the open door and your stomach drops. “Tony Stark took care of himself, Thor is off planet, and the only person who would stand in my way was just taken down by missile just last night.” Your eyes widen. Sam. “The only thing left for me to do is use our little soldier to tear apart the rest.” Another scream. The chair. The fucking chair. “And you’ll be alive long enough for me to take all the blood I need to synthesize a new serum and then you’ll be gone too.” His thumb ever so gently wiped the blood off your bottom lip before releasing you and stepping back. The thug stepped forward, connecting his fist with your temple and making you see black once more.

20 HOURS EARLIER…

“Incoming missile detected.” The jet jerks to the side, throwing Sam and Sharon off balance, the agents behind them strapped into their seats grip at their harnesses as the agent piloting in the jet attempts to shake the missile off of their trail, Sharon secures herself in a harness.

“Open the ramp!” Sam yells, the wind picking up as the ramp lowers, Sharon’s hand pressed firmly against the button. From his back, nightwing shoots out the small device soaring through the air towards the incoming projectile. It dropped small magnetic discs onto the missile, nightwing flying just out of range before Sam detonates it. The missile exploding in midair.

The jet levels out, “Land it.” Sharon instructs, touching the comms in her ear, “Land all aircrafts.” They’re going to have to hoof it inside.

“Incoming missile detected.” Another one as the jet touches the ground, this one barely caught in time, the smoke dusting Sam’s skin as he exits the jet. Two more hovered around him before also landing, agents stepping out to hear word from their Captain.

Someone sold them out, and that someone was here.

Sam had a feeling he knew who it was, but it wasn’t time for him to let on. He had to think of another plan, and fast. He could see the Humvees in the distance speeding their way.

Steve would have come up with one by now. He definitely would have. Sam scolds himself for that, looking over at the men awaiting instruction.

“I’ll see how many I can take out from the air.” He says, “Agent 13 will lead groundwork, use the jets as cover, don’t underestimate them. They’re trained just as you are.” His eyes scanning the crowd. “They’re not your run of the mill thug on the street.” His eyes found Eric’s, the man seemed to be listening intently, Sam looked away. “Don’t forget the real goal here, we’ve gotta get those hostages out alive.” The wings sprouted from his back, and he kicked off into the sky.

Four Humvees. Nine people per Humvee if they were to capacity. “Thirty-six.” That’s not so bad. That’s not bad at all.

They didn’t want all their manpower out front first. Sam was sure there would be a second wave as they grew closer to the base. It was a large base and he was sure they had many behind the front lines that would no doubt make this mission very difficult.

He dropped a few projectiles taking out one Humvee altogether before a gunner set his sights on Sam. He could see behind him, agents beginning to fire into the Humvees, ricocheting off the metal, one clipping a tire, the vehicle swerving out of control and smacking into the side of another before righting itself and riding the rim. Sam landed on top of the gunner shooting at him, connecting his fist to the man’s temple and tossing him off. A bullet shot up through the roof at him, grazing his arm, he steps toward the windshield, quickly dropping down the side of the car and yanking the door open, stunning the driver with a new gadget Peter had made for him. Not unlike Black Widow’s spider bite.

The driver slumped and Sam pulled him from the vehicle, tossing him to the ground and emptied his stunners into the bodies of the remaining men before slipping into the driver’s seat and halting the vehicle.

The team advances, quickly dispatching the remaining offenders. They moved toward the base.

“Hostages on third floor, twenty-three in total. Secure first.” Sam threw his shield into the first man who tried to stop him, ricocheting it off his body and back into his hand, lifting off into the air to subdue a guard shooting from a tower as Sharon met him at the gate.

“I’ll take a team to get the hostages,” She says.

“Oh so you want me to do the grunt work?” He smirks, throwing the shield into the control panel on the front door, the mechanism hissing open. “I don’t think the girls would want to see me anyway.” He didn’t know what kind of state they were in and was unsure if they’d want to see a man. Sharon was taking female agents to go diffuse the situation and hopefully gain some trust.

Sam and his team worked their way through the building, picking off one by one the operatives waiting for them. He began to feel nervous; he still hadn’t gotten a signal from Barnes and as he hits his opponent in the face with the broad side of the shield, he wonders where Zemo is right now. If he’s in this very building or not. Because he had an inkling that the same person that sold them out, maybe intercepted the call, and maybe told Zemo where you were. Sam hoped that he was wrong, that maybe he’d be able to get to you guys first. And more optimistically, the call hadn’t come in yet.

…

It was exhausting. The shocks. The blinding pain. Bucky’s head ached and every time he opened his eyes he couldn’t quite see. He fucked up. He let his guard down and he fucked up. He failed you.

This was his fault. Fuck. What did Shuri tell him again? Something to focus on, the trigger words had gone from his head. It had taken years for those words to fuse themselves with his brain, but only a few months for Shuri to condition them out. Bucky was afraid. What if they weren’t actually gone? What if they were still there? Buried and dormant, waiting for the chair again to envelop his brain and take him back under.

He swore he would never become the Winter Soldier again. He would rather die, but… you need him.

He heard Zemo go into that cell, he heard yelling. He tried to stop screaming, but he couldn’t. You must be so afraid. He’s breathing heavily teeth grinding against the belt shoved in his mouth. His eyes are sore, throbbing headache as he gets hit again and his mind goes blank from the pain.

Rumlow used to call the chair the blender as a joke. But that’s what it did. That’s what it felt like. Putting his head through a fucking blender. The shocks stop and he’s given time to think.

You need him, you’re feet away. But there’s five men in this room and he’s in no condition to fight. His left arm is working at half capacity, weak and useless. He had to think, what to do. How to get you out of this. It fucking hurt, it hurt so bad. Okay.

Okay.

He had to think. Zemo was reciting the words, shocking him once every three minutes or so. So he had three minutes to come up with some sort of plan.

What did he hear Zemo say? That he’s going to use the soldier right? He’s going to use to soldier to disband the rest of the Avengers? So it’s safe to say that once he thinks the soldier has taken over he should give him instruction? And then send him on his way.

But he can’t leave you here.

Not with them.

So what does he do?

…

You huff, spitting more blood onto the floor, starting to feel nauseous from the taste of it. Head resting against the cement wall, you had to get these cuffs off. Your hands were falling asleep. Your legs were already numb and you tried to stretch them out but your ankles being cuffed together wasn’t ideal.

A shift in the corner of your eye. Steve. Your mouth parts, your body relaxes, almost relieved.

“Dad?” It comes out more watery than you’d have liked, more fearful than you wanted to let on. He crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek, his phantom hand no more than a whisper against your skin.

“Think.” His voice is like a bullet through the room. His eyes intently focused on yours. “What do you do?” Your eyes scan his, wanting nothing more than to cry and have him figure this out for you, those life and death situations before where he just took over, but he couldn’t. You couldn’t let him. You had to figure this out. “C’mon my sweet girl, figure it out.” An echo in your head as he disappears.

The bed.

The rusted old thing with those thin, easily breakable springs. You scoot yourself over on your legs and seeing a piece that looks loose you press your foot against it. The coil, with enough pressure, snaps, sending little pieces of metal spraying onto the ground. You find one long enough to stick into the lock. Your hands working blindly behind you to pick the lock, a hiss releasing from the cuffs as they fell to the floor with a heavy clang behind you.

You take the time to rub your wrists, your arms sore and stiff before you work on your legs. The lock being picked much quicker. You’d barely stood up when the door opened, you slipped back onto your knees quickly, the cuffs slid under the bed, hands held behind your back.

If you could get Zemo alone… take off the head right?

Your heart accelerated, ready for fight or flight. You could do this. You could totally do this. The door slid all the way open,

“Eric?” He grinned, covered in sweat and panting, blood staining the fabric of his shirt. A black Avengers issued bullet proof vest over grey t-shirt.

“Let’s get out of here.”


	18. eighteen

Eric stood in front of you expectantly before rushing forward and gently helping you from the ground. You were stunned, but if he was here that means Sam made it. He was okay, and Zemo had been misinformed. “Okay, lets go.” He poked his head out the door, reaching a hand back to you.

A hand that you took.

“Where’s Bucky?” The fear of knowing that he’d just been in pain, the chair, and that you couldn’t help him. Eric shakes his head,

“I think Zemo still has him,” When you exit the room you could see fighting. Avengers agents against non-descript thugs. “Sam’s working on it.” Your heart was racing. What if Zemo triggered him? What if he was the Winter Soldier again?

Your coat. It was discarded on one of the chairs by the exit and you were able to pick it up and slip it on before following Eric outside. The light reflecting off the snow was blinding. A jet idled in the distance, and that is where Eric was taking you. But you can’t,

“I can’t leave without him.” You ripped your hand from his grip, looking around, seeing tracks leading in the opposite direction. Tire tracks.

“Y/N, we’ll never be able to find him out here.” Eric panted behind you, breath coming out in puffs in front of his face. It was cold. You couldn’t imagine it would be more than a couple degrees Fahrenheit above zero. Your fingers were already numb. But your gut was telling you to follow those tracks. You had to. You turned to Eric, the panic on his face.

“They went this way.” You pointed into the dirty tracks in the snow. “On fresh snow we’d be able to go right to them.” He shakes his head,

“I don’t think just the two of us could take him down,” he said, “We’d need more—”

“You said Sam was on it right?” Eric swallows and nods,

“Yeah,”

“Let’s go help him then.” You’d done some exploring of the base to pass the time, vehicles in a cargo bay with an exit out the side of the base. The side where the tracks were on. So the vehicles must still be in working order. You fumble with the case of keys on the wall, plucking a random set and trying to find the truck that matched. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, like a rock set deep into your gut.

You look back at Eric who was staring intently at the ground, your brow furrows, “Eric?” His vision snaps up to you and you could see his jaw set. “Are you coming or not?” He nods,

“Of course.”

The mountains were a steep incline up, deep declines. The old engine struggled, but persevered. The muddy tracks the only thing you could follow. Like a string pulled taut. Following it to him. Your knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly. The turns were winding and serious. You had to focus. But something was so familiar about it, like you’d done it before. Like Steve had done it before.

“Are you sure about this?” Eric asked, placing a hand on your thigh. You stiffened, the small affection you’d had for him before drowned out in the waves of emotion you were currently feeling for Bucky. The worry, the stress… the blooming affection and deep set love. You hoped he was okay and you hoped that he wasn’t too far gone.

There was sign on the side of the mountain, half covered in snow. But one so clear and it struck a chord in your heart.

Grief.

Sadness.

The sign read in Bulverian. Your meter elevation. The name of the road you were currently on and something was deadly clear.

You were in Austria.

_“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?” No. Not this. Please god not this._

_“Yeah, and I threw up?” You don’t want this._

_“This isn’t payback, is it?” Bucky joked._

_“Now why would I do that?” You could feel the cold mountain air on your cheeks, shield strapped to your back. Your eyes tracked the zipline. The zipline that would take you to the metal train about to rush around the corner._

_You can’t do this._

_You can’t fucking do this._

_“We were right. Dr. Zola is on the train.” Happy Sam Sawyer, you remember him. He was working the radio with Morita. “Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he’s going they must need him bad.”_

_This is where Bucky dies._

**The memory morphs. But you’re still Steve. Alone. On the side of the mountain. He’s cold. He’s so cold. You look at your hands, his hands.**

**Those fingerless gloves. The stealth suit. What is this?**

**The zipline, rusty and unused for 80 years, would that even hold him anymore?**

**The train.**

**It comes rushing around the corner just as it did in 1945. His hands grip the metal rod he was going to use to zipline down with, waiting a second. Then going.**

**The rush was sickening.**

**He remembers in 1945, Bucky on his tails, doing this before. The train hits the soles of his feet hard; he rolls and tries to catch his footing. He’s not recovered yet. He feels weak.**

**But when you turn the memory shifts again.** _And Bucky is behind you. It’s 1945._

_He follows you into the train, down the ladder and into the train car, gun up and ready. This is it. But you didn’t want to see it. The different rooms they lock you into. The man you’re fighting. The man Bucky is fighting. The plasma gun. Tesseract technology. Steve uses it to blow down the door and get back to Bucky. You know he’s afraid. They both are. But Steve made a mistake._

_Bucky was the one who got his hands dirty. Not Steve, and that was his mistake. The plasma gun, it hit the shield Bucky was holding, throwing him through the side of the train and down to his death. His temporary death._

**But not this time. Steve won’t let it happen this time. His fists find the first thug he sees, shield spinning and hitting another. Bucky was on this train, and he was going to find him. And this time he was going to save him.**

…

You woke from the daze, the sign passing you. The two memories in an instant. But… Steve hadn’t lived this life. So how is this even possible? Strange. He talked about multiple universes right? Was that one of them?

But what did this mean? There was a Steve that didn’t go back? There were timelines where he took the stones back, but he didn’t stay? But how were you even seeing them?

The turn off. If you didn’t know it was there… you would have missed it. An unpaved road thick with snow that brought you to that outer bank. It took your breath away. Like seeing something over and over again in a movie but then finally being in the spot where it happened. The train tracks across from you.

Was this it?

Was this what they’d been leading you to all along?

Your entire life. The heart transplants. Your Father dying for you. These memories. Everything? You felt it under your skin, bubbling up to this very moment. You dig in the trunk trying to find anything to help you, but nothing that would get you across. A length of long cord. The kind that people use for mountain climbing. Something tells you that you’ll need is so you stuff it into your pocket and turn back, walking down the hill to stand across from the tracks.

“I don’t think we should do this.” Eric stood on the hill behind you. “You’re expecting to land on top of an oncoming train?” You turn to him, something solid formed.

“Yes.” You said simply, “I do.” Abandoned next to the zipline, the old equipment left from decades earlier. Metal bits you knew would get you down there because they got Steve down there. In his future.

“We should go back to the jet.” He takes a step closer. “This is a bad idea.” You glare at him.

“Why are you so insistent that we leave them behind?” He shakes his head,

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying? I thought you wanted to be an Avenger?” He softly grasps your hand, trying to pull you in closer, but you resist.

“I just think this whole thing is a little bigger than us.” His eyes search yours and you realize something. They’re empty.

Like the lights are on but no one is home.

Something is deeply and terribly wrong and you can feel it now.

“Who are you?” He looks taken aback. Like he wasn’t expecting you to ask him that.

“You know who I am.” You could hear the train, it’s getting close.

“No…” You try to step away but the grip on your wrist tightens. “I don’t.” His jaw sets and something shifts. The eyes, you thought they were warm once, but maybe you’d just been dumb. Less perceptive. His grip is tight enough to bruise.

“Get in the fucking truck.” He moves to take you with him, but you drag him backward, elbowing him in the face. He groans, holding his nose, “You fucking bitch.” A fist swings out, which you dodge, the train was almost here.

You needed to handle this, and fast.

You jam your heel into his foot, bringing your elbow into his sternum and laying him out on the ground. His eyes finally had some life in them, and he was angry.

“Y’know.” He goes to stand, “Zemo said my mission would be difficult,” He spit blood onto the ground, “But you’d made it so easy for me up until now.” He held his fists up, cracking his neck. “I don’t think Zemo would mind if you were a little worse for wear.”

He threw a jab, you locked his elbow into your arm and snapped it back. His other fist meeting the side of your face haphazardly, but with the bruising you’d still felt it was more impactful. Not to mention your ribs were still healing. You had to move now, or else you’ll miss the train.

You scramble for the metal rod, using your position to slam it into his kneecap, the man letting out a yell and falling to the floor. The train sped around the corner. You run to the zipline, kicking off the ground and laying the metal rod over top, catching the other side in your grip as you made your way down.

Your knees absorbed the shock of you hitting the metal roof, the wind was whipping past your face, cheeks red and raw. Eyes watery. You could see him zipping down behind you. But you didn’t have time for that. You needed to get inside.

The last car, much like in the memory. It was cargo. Guns. Ammunition. You silently thanked Bucky for teaching you about his guns.

You had a whole lesson on the back porch of the cabin. Which guns used which ammo and were used certain circumstances. You couldn’t trust you’d be a good shot, but it was better than going in empty handed.

_Past Steve had Bucky behind him._

**Future Steve had no one.**

And you had the man who’d sold you out, tricked and played you, hot on your tail.

They had to know you were here. So you had to be ready. You can do this.

You can do this.

The nerves were the worst part. You had to will your hands not to shake on the gun. The door in front of you hissed open, men filing into the car, but you were already shooting.

**Steve was already shooting. He had to find Bucky. He was somewhere on this train.**

You’d gotten clipped in the shoulder by a bullet as you dove behind stacks of boxes. The blood seeping into the sleeve of your coat. The door in front of you hissed open, Eric walking through, gun pointed at you. He pulled the trigger, bullet grazing your ear, but you catch him in the shoulder, he crumples to his knees clutching it, before turning and shooting down the last two men behind you.

Next car.

**You could feel Steve’s anger. The rage in losing Bucky a second time. But he wouldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t let it happen. If it happens again…**

**It would destroy him.**

The plasma gun. A sore memory. Tesseract technology you thought destroyed, but then again, SHIELD probably said they destroyed more than they actually did. It rips a hole through the door in front of you and if it weren’t for your keen senses, the super soldier senses you still weren’t completely used to, you wouldn’t have heard the hum before the shot.

You change your magazine behind another stack of boxes, the hum charging up again and you roll out of the way.

Bucky couldn’t shoot through this armor. Not in 1945. So what are you supposed to do now? You had to get by him. How did Steve do it?

The shield. He knocked him out with the shield. But you didn’t have one. So you’d have to make due. The boxes were metal, and so were their lids. It would have to do.

You slid the lid off the box in front of you, grounding yourself and turning out into the aisle. It was surreal. Like this guy was painted straight out of memory. The dual guns. You rush him, the hum of charge accelerating but you use the shield to push him over. Knocking him in the head with the metal lid. You ripped his mask off, throwing the lid down and drug him into the corner and out of your way. Hitting him in the head once more for good measure, you moved on.

The next train car you entered and there he was. Eyes blank. Staring forward. Zemo standing behind him at the door, gun raised and pointed at the back of Bucky’s skull.

**“What have you done?” Steve glared at the man in the background. A smirk on his face. “Buck?”**

“Bucky?” You look softly at the man in front of you, his left arm was dragging, still damaged. You look back at Zemo. “You’re not getting out of this.” You say, “You’ll never get off the raft again now that you’ve done this.”

“That’s a bold statement for someone who won’t make it off this train alive.” You feel your bottom lip tremble, but you must stay clear headed. You can’t let the emotion of this get to you.

**Steve was blinded by anger, and he leapt into action immediately. But Bucky was gone, zapped back to who he was before.**

**He should have known. When Zemo had taken Bucky that he would do what he did the first time. Turn him back into the Winter Soldier.**

“It’s never going to work.” You shake your head. “You want to destroy the Avengers and you think that by killing the top tier that you’ll do that, but you’re wrong. The Avengers aren’t just an organization, they’re an idea.” You could feel your body slightly tremble. “You can’t erase an idea.

There’s always going to be some kid in Queens, someone trying to make amends for their wrongs, someone who wants to help get rid of guys like you, men who think that their wants and needs are the only thing that matters.” You spit, “You see, Hydra’s whole thing is… cut one head off and two grow in their place, but they were wrong. The Avengers destroyed Hydra and now they’re no more than petty thugs who can’t reorganize. But the Avengers? Three of them died and ten rose up to join their ranks. We’ve got Avengers in all continents, in different fucking galaxies and you’re going to tell me that you’re capable of destroying all of that?

….I don’t think so.”

Zemo glared steadily at you and then spoke something in Russian to the man across from you, Bucky’s eyes meeting yours. He replied and Zemo backed from the room. Doors on either side of you hissing shut. You clear the magazine, tossing it to one side and tossing the gun to the other side.

“Bucky…” He rushed you, fist hitting the metal door behind you as you duck and swerve around him, laying a kick into his back, his chest smacking into the door in front of him before he turned to face you.

He rushed you again. His moves sloppy. Easily dodged and maneuvered around. Every swing of your fist connected. This wasn’t right. This was very wrong. Back in training, yes you improved, but not this much. You let him grab you and spun your back to his chest. His grip was soft. You understood.

“Make it look good sweetheart.” Hot on your ear. Okay. “You’re doing great.”

Okay.

**“Buck, it’s me.” Bucky’s fist met his jaw, a splitting pain. He was gone. Zemo did it. The trust he’d laid in Shuri was dissolved, she removed the trigger words, but Zemo was able to pull them back to the surface. They’d just been buried.**

**Steve would have to fight him, for real.**

**“C’mon Buck, snap out of it.” Steve grunts, flipping the man over his back. The animosity in Bucky’s eyes unwavering. He slips up.**

**It’s that easy. He slips up.**

**And he’s on his back, gasping for breath as Bucky’s hands close around his throat.**

It was like a game. All of that practice, the training. Bucky was encouraging you silently to come at him. A choreographed dance of moves, until he had you on your back, hands wrapped around your throat but not squeezing.

It was then that you heard it.

**The hum of the plasma gun.**

**Steve flinches as it goes off, ripping into the door and exiting through the side of the train car.**

**It was so familiar.**

_The plasma gun rips a hole in the side of the train car, throwing Steve back on the ground. He watches as Bucky picks up the shield, firing bullets into the man across from him, shield held before him. The plasma gun shoots again. Throwing Bucky back and out of the train car._

_Steve gets to his feet and throws his shield at the villain, turning to look out the ripped hole. Bucky barely hanging on. But you know how it ends. Because that’s how it ends every single time you’d had this nightmare._

_._

_._

_._

_Bucky falls._

**Bucky falls back, shocked at the appearance of the plasma gun, but the guy is on his team. Bucky attacks Steve again, the hum of the charging plasma gun rising once more.**

**Steve had to get him out of here.**

**It couldn’t happen again.**

**That feeling in his gut making him queasy. He can’t lose Bucky again. The plasma gun goes off during the struggle, catching Bucky’s arm. His body propelled back tumbling off the side of the train, hands gripping the metal bar tightly. Steve shoots the villain with a gun. It hits his neck and he falls, turning to his love.**

**“Buck, please.” His voice betraying the escalation of emotion he was feeling, watery and raw. He can’t go through this again. “Grab my hand.” But Bucky’s eyes are blank.**

**He’s not Bucky, he’s the soldier. And he knows when a mission is lost.**

**He lets go.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Bucky falls.**

“You fucking bitch.” Eric groans, the plasma gun heavy on his shoulders, “All you had to do was get on the fucking jet.” Bucky stands in front of you, squaring off.

“Bucky.” You know what’s about to happen. This is it.

You can’t let it happen again.

“So it didn’t work?” Eric scoffed, “I told Zemo that it wouldn’t work.”

“Just like I knew you were no good this whole time.” Bucky spat. The hum, the charge. The wind whipping by the train, you could feel it on your cheeks. You fumble in your coat pocket. The cord. The cord from the truck.

The plasma gun goes off, it hits Bucky’s arm and you scramble for the gun. The one bullet you’d left in the chamber, you hit Eric in his head, stomach turning at the brain matter now sprayed across the door you rush over to the side.

Your heart drops.

He’s hanging on, much like in every nightmare. Every replayed memory. His left arm is damaged, he’s slipping.

“Bucky.” He looks at you so soft, scared. Like it was 1945 all over again, but this time he would actually die. You shudder, stepping out into the cold. “Jump to me.” You yell, holding your hand out. “Please,” Your voice wavering. This had to work. It couldn’t happen again, it just couldn’t.

“I can’t…” His eyes are glossy, “Sweetheart, I can’t.”

“You can.” You try to move closer, your one hand outstretched to him, “Trust me, Buck… please.” His eyes focus on yours and he takes a deep breath, before letting go.

Jumping towards you.

He always falls. In Steve’s past. In the future he didn’t live. He could never save him. And you…

.

.

.

You catch him.

Your body jerks with the added weight and you grind your teeth, pulling him up and towards you, using the rope you’d hastily tied to the pipe next to Eric’s body as leverage you drag him up and back into the train car.

You’re back against the cold metal. You both try to catch your breath, Bucky rolls over, face hovering over yours. Your eyes are wet, lips dry and chapped. He doesn’t look much better, but he’s alive. And you whimper, wanting to sob. The emotional toll of this day crashing on you, but it’s not over yet.

“We’re okay,” His fingers on your cheek. “You did so good baby, you really did.” His voice choking. His thumb on your bottom lip. You part them, rising to your elbows to press your lips against his. His fingers digging into your scalp as your lips meet and meet and meet. His tongue brushing your bottom lip. A heavy sigh shared between.

“I saved you.” You cried against his mouth.

“Yeah baby,” A soft and slow, languid kiss, “Yeah baby you did.”


	19. nineteen

Your heart was still racing, the adrenaline and fear not quite worn off. Bucky’s fingers in your hair, his forehead against yours. You took a breath after stealing each other’s. A minute to calm down, remember where you were. Your body trembling. You sit against him, arms wrapped around him you bury your face in his neck.

He’s here.

He’s real.

He’s not the Winter Solider.

He’s Bucky.

It’s okay.

_It’s okay._

You hear metal warping, and both abruptly pull back, Bucky gripping you tight and dragging you across the floor scooting back and away from the side of the open train. But you’re soothed when red tendrils seep in around the edges. Wanda slips in from the top of the train, shutting the metal bit behind her. Bucky rises to jam a metal pipe in between the handles on the side to keep the side of the train closed.

“You guys really took your time.” He scoffs. Wanda breathes heavily, shaking snow out of her hair and turns to you, rushing forward to her knees and hugging you, still on the floor.

“Are you okay?” She pulls back, brushing your hair out of your face. You nod, emotions still high.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles, looking over at Eric, dead on the floor. Her smile falls.

“I checked his mind.” Wanda stands, “He was the mole?” You nod, Bucky walks over to help you from the floor.

“He was trying to get me on a jet,” You swallow, “He told me himself he was working for Zemo.” Wanda stares at him for a moment more before shaking her head, confusion clear on her face.

“We’ve got to go help Sam.” Sam was on the train. Okay. Which means he made it. He’s okay.

But being okay was subjective. Yeah Sam was able to fight, take down the control room with the help from Sharon and a couple other agents, but he was badly bruised. Wheezing. They both were.

A sigh of relief shared as Sam turned to you, he stepped to Bucky and pulled him into a hug.

“Are you guys okay?” Sharon had a cut running down her forehead, blood on her face. You could only imagine the bruising on your own.

“Yeah,” Bucky pulled back from Sam, “You guys look like shit though.”

“You’re one to talk.” Truthfully you were all a little worse for wear. You look to Zemo’s unconscious body.

“Did you get the girls out?” The trafficking victims, you look at Sam who had one swollen eye and blood coming out of his right ear. He nods, that gap-toothed smile less enthusiastic than normal, but relieved, nonetheless. You step over to him and pull him into your chest, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

“We’ve called for an evac,” Sharon started. The train beginning to slow. “They’ll airlift us out of here and take the train to the next stop before taking the contents for evidence.” The relief. The relief of it being over. It was overpowering.

Bucky’s hand found yours, pulling you over to his side. You felt so dizzy. Your hand coming to grab your head.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You look over at him and see double, unable to focus. Unable to…

“She’s going to faint.” Wanda said in a panic. It was the last thing you heard before you sunk under.

.

.

.

The love a parent has for their child is unparalleled.

.

.

.

_The place was a a vast wasteland of rock lit up by an eclipsed sun. Vormir. The two tall stone towers high in the air, the rocky climb. He stood at the edge of the water. The daunting task ahead of him sitting wrong in his gut. The hammer weighed heavy in his palm, when he asked Clint what to expect he wasn’t soothed._

_“It’s like a graveyard.” He said, “It just reeks of death and despair.”_

_He wasn’t wrong. How many sacrifices were made on this rock for power? How many threw the one person they loved more than anyone else to their death for the advancement of their own life._

_It was depraved._

_“Death is there.” Clint said. And as Steve made his way to the top of the mountain, the fog thick around his ankles, he stopped in his tracks._

_“Schmidt?” His stomach churned with the sight. The grim reaper, in the flesh, or perhaps lack thereof. Red Skull. Johann Schmidt._

_“Captain America… Steve Rogers… son of Sarah Rogers.” An airy haunted voice, “I couldn’t possibly believe that you are here seeking infinite power that I, myself, once sought. Nor would you have the ability to lose the thing you love the most, so I’m asking you now… why are you here?”_

_“How is this possible?” Steve asked, stepping back. “How are you here?”_

_“I sought the stones for myself… I was banished to this place to lead those who seek it to the prize I will never, myself, be able to gain.” His eyes drifting to the case in Steve’s hand. “Stones it seems you already have.”_

_Steve’s jaw clenched; anger bubbled in his stomach. “I’ve come to return the soul stone.” Red Skull nods,_

_“And so quickly after it had been taken.” His back turned to Steve, the drift up the mountain. Steve followed warily._

_“So what are you supposed to be?” Steve asked, “Death?” The figure stopped, hovering over a flat platform with a steep drop. This is where she fell, Nat. This is where she died. Steve’s throat felt tight. Eyes watery._

_“Very astute… drop the stone into the cavern below.” Red Skull spoke to him, “And I will grant you one favor for returning it.” Steve’s eyes flit from the far drop to the figure of the man he’d thought he killed a long time ago._

_The villain that took everything away from him. “A favor?” He asked._

_“You were always so noble.” The figure spoke evenly, and devoid of emotion, “For this act of service, re-balancing the scales of power, you get a favor from death.”_

_The case open, the glowing amber stone glaring back at him. “One favor?”_

_“Just the one.”_

_“And it could be anything?” Steve asked. The stone grasped, ready to fall back into its rightful place._

_“Anything.”_

_._

_._

_._

It was strange. This whole thing was strange. It looked like a sunset. A vast emptiness in front of you. Where are you? It’s quiet here. So quiet. A tree to your right, you turn to face a house.

A house you only remember from your memories of it. From Steve’s memories of it. The home he shared with your Mother. Your heart begins to race as the front door opens, and there he is. As if time had been frozen the minute, he left Bucky. The second he left you. His hair perfectly combed, a button down, slacks… a smile.

“Dad?” Your voice echoes in this space.

“My sweet girl.” Shaky and watery. His eyes pooled with tears he takes three long strides to you before pulling you into his chest. Solid. Real. You gasp in shock. Your arms wrapping around him, trembling. “You did such a good job.” A mumble into your hair. He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, looking at you. “Your Mother and I are so proud of you.” A tear rolling down his cheek. “You look so strong, so healthy…”

“Dad, I… what is this?” He looks taken aback for a moment, fingers brushing your hair out of your face, before his jaw clenches and he nods.

“I made a deal,” He swallows. “When taking back the stones…” His eyes move out on the horizon. “Selfish of me… Strange told me I would be giving you away and I just… I couldn’t let go of you entirely.”

“Where are we?” You ask. “How are you here?”

“This is how I’ve been talking to you… or at least trying to.” He takes your hand, bringing you to the porch. “I made a deal with death… my exchange for returning the soul stone… I could…” He shakes his head. “You know, I didn’t even know if Strange had been telling me the truth. I didn’t believe him until I had to physically give you away, like it was the only option left.” His hands clasped in yours as you both sat on the bench. “When I returned the stone,” Looking at you in your eyes, “I took a leap of faith, trusting Strange, I stayed with your Mom. I had you, but when I returned the stones…”

“You asked to be able to talk to me?” You sat back from him, eyes shifting rapidly over the horizon, trying to process. “Did you know Bucky was going to fall? This whole time?” His eyes glaze over almost, like thinking back on a bad memory, a demon of his past. And you know it. That guilt. The soreness that still is with him, even in death. A regret.

“I knew you would be able to save him.” He admits, “When I couldn’t.” 

“So you told me where to go?” You’re putting it together. “You told me what to do… You pushed us together.” It all made sense. Bucky triggered the memories not from his presence on their own, but because that’s how Steve designed it. Steve triggered the memories around Bucky to grow his attention.

“Bucky always loved a damsel in distress.” Steve mused with sorrow. You shake your head, looking down on your joined hands.

“You knew how he would react to me?” The way he’d been so torn. The rough, calloused, way he treated you before. Yet your lips were still tingling from his kiss.

“I knew he would love you.” Steve gave you a little half smile. “You’re so much better than I could have ever imagined you to be, Y/N. I want you to know that.” Your throat was tight, “If I had to make the choice to go back again I would do it in a heartbeat… watching you grow up, giving you my heart, all of it. I would do it all again.” You let out a shaky breath.

“But you didn’t get to stay with him.” It’s more watery than you wanted it to be.

“I didn’t… I didn’t deserve him.” Steve shrugs, “I lived a good life with Peggy. We had a happy life and for a short time we had you. I don’t know if I would have ever taken the leap to…”

“To actually be with him.” He nods. “I… I really love him.” It felt strange coming out of your mouth, it felt strange to say to your father, but it felt right to admit it. He smiles softly at you, hand coming to cup your cheek. His hand real and warm. His thumb brushing a tear off your cheek.

“You’re allowed to love him… I don’t want you to feel guilty for that.”

“I don’t know what to say.” You sniffle. “This whole time I’ve had so many questions for you and this whole mystery and I just…” Your head meets the siding of the house, looking out on that horizon, stretching wide and endless, you look to him. He’s patient. You knew that. He’s waiting for you to gather your thoughts and talk to him in whatever limited time you had left. “What did you want for me? I was nothing before this.”

He sighs, crossing his legs and giving you a strange look. “You weren’t nothing before this.” He shakes his head, “I want you to be happy… everything I’d ever done in my life was for you, you had been and always will be my child.” He smirks, “If you wanna go back to the brewery after this and bartend again then go for it, if you—”

“Want to join the team.” You cut in. “What if I want to join the team?” His eyes soften.

“It’s a difficult job.” He says, “A very self-sacrificing job.”

“I’m fairly good at it.” He laughs.

“You are… and if that’s something you want to do, nothing is stopping you, but it’s difficult and there’s going to be times where you make mistakes that can’t be undone.” And everyone is looking at you. You assume he’s thinking about Tony. The accords. Wanda. “But I don’t doubt that you have what it takes.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever actually found purpose.” You sigh, “I didn’t think I would ever live this long…”

“Don’t lose yourself in it.” A warning, from experience, “Don’t lose yourself in being the person everyone expects you to be.” His fingers brushing your cheek lovingly. “You’re a little too much like me if I’m going to be honest… I didn’t think I would have lived as long as I did either… and I lost myself in that job. I killed myself more than once for it…” His hand cups your cheek once more, “Learn from the mistakes I’ve made and don’t be afraid to take a step back, do you understand?” You nod, leaning into his hand, sinking into his side and letting him pull you into a hug.

“Thank you.” You mumble into his chest. “For everything.”

“I love you so much,” He kisses your hair, “I would have given you more if I could have.”

And then he was gone.

For good this time.

And you’re warm.

So very warm. Tucked into Bucky’s chest on a private plane. The window cover lifted. It was dark outside, you could see the little flashing lights on the wing of the plane. How long had you been out? He was snoring softly, left arm thrown over his eyes in the dim lights of the plane. Your bladder was screaming, and you hadn’t yet processed what you’d just gone through.

All of it.

The kiss.

Zemo.

Eric.

Steve.

You needed to pee.

You shift slightly, Bucky’s arm tightening around you, his gentle snore stopping. His eyes meet yours, sleepy. “Are you okay?” His raspy voice whispers. You nod, his fingers cupping your chin and a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m just gonna go pee.” He nods, releasing you. The little pod seating he helped you out of, pressing a button to open the little side door and you walked to the back of the plane. The flight attendant sitting in a chair on her phone. You gave her a soft smile before entering the bathroom.

You sat in there for a moment, not even just to use the bathroom but just a moment to process. You zoned out a little, being pulled out by a soft knock a few minutes later. “Just a sec.” You wash your hands quickly and step from the bathroom.

Bucky was standing outside the door, concern on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” You reply. The flight attendant now gone from behind him, “I’m a little hungry though.” It had been almost two days now since you’ve eaten, you realize. He nods,

“Go lay back down, I’ll grab you some food.” You slipped back into the pod, curling up with your back against the wall of the plane, pulling the blanket over you and getting comfortable before Bucky returned with a couple packets of pretzels and shortbread cookies, in his other hand two mini bottles of water. “Small sips.” He cautioned, and you listened even though your mouth was dry. He adjusted the seat so you weren’t laying down and tugged you into his side. “You scared the shit out of me back there.”

“I know…” You popped a pretzel into your mouth, “I was scared for a minute there.”

“Wanda told us that you were having another memory…” His fingers brushed up and down your side. The quiet hum of the engines in the background, “And that you were okay.”

“It wasn’t another memory.” Your cheek pressed against his shoulder; you look up at him. “I talked to Steve.” He takes a moment to process, mouth opening and closing again.

“What do you mean?”

You shake your head, “I wasn’t being completely honest before… I didn’t want to seem crazy, but he used to appear to me.” A small sip of water, “Like a ghost, he was like…”

“Like haunting you?” He asked. You shrug,

“Kind of… like showing me where to go.” You take another small sip. “He made a deal when he returned the stones… he wanted to talk to me.”

“What did he say?” You crunch on another pretzel, burying yourself into his side.

“That he was proud of me… among other things.” Bucky nods, letting out a deep breath. His arms pulling you in close a tight hug against his body. “Are you okay?”

He’d gone through a lot today. It wasn’t just you. You couldn’t get his screams out of your head. They rang between your ears and made you uneasy. He took a sip from your water bottle before speaking, “I’ll be okay.” You look at him expectantly a moment longer and he continues, “When I was in the chair all I could think about was how to get you out of there.” He sighed, “I couldn’t let myself go… I couldn’t… not when I needed to get you out of there, I passed out… woke up on the train. I thought—”

“He wasn’t going to kill me,” You reason. “At least not yet…”

“He hurt you though,” The bruising on your face, “Eric did too.” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“How could I have been so stupid?”

“We didn’t know he was the mole,” Bucky reasoned, “Not at first.”

“I should have listened when you said you had a bad feeling.” The guilt of that, the feeling of stupidity from being tricked.

“No…” He shakes his head, “I think my bad feeling originally was jealousy maybe… protectiveness? I don’t know… You were so helpless back then. I felt like I needed to protect you.” It was quiet for a moment, you felt tired again. His eyes drooping.

“Thank you.” You mumble into his chest. The water bottle lay empty between you, his fingers fumbling with the button to recline you back down your spine cracks as you stretch yourself out.

“For what?” His sleepy voice, low and soft.

“For everything.”

…

“Doctor Strange!” You smile, entering the lab. The brilliant surgeon turned ‘wizard’ as Peter called him was talking with Bruce. “Can I steal you for a minute?” You’d been waiting to talk to him since you’d gotten back to the compound, but he’d been busy up until this point. It appears you guys weren’t the only ones dealing with a big bad villain recently. A scratch above his eyebrow stitched and covered in a butterfly bandage showed that.

“Of course,” He turns to Bruce, “It was nice talking to you old friend.” A gentle handshake and he was moving on, stepping out onto the grass with you, following the well-worn track.

“I think you owe me an explanation.” You say, “Being as though you seem to know how things happen, before they actually happen.”

He laughs, “What would you like me to explain?” It was implied as more of a, where would you like me to start?

“Well you can start with… Did you know that Bucky would fall from the train again?” He looked at you seriously and answered almost as quickly as you asked the question.

“I did.”

“And you knew I would save him?”

“I did.”

“But Steve couldn’t?”

“No.” You look at him incredulously.

“Okay so explain… I was getting memories from a timeline where—”

“Where Steve didn’t go back.” Strange finished, “Steve wasn’t there when Bucky was being tortured, he was in Tanzania, fighting with Sam. Bucky had nothing to focus on to keep him from going back under, so he did.” His hands clasped behind his back. “In every timeline where Steve stayed, where he didn’t go back to have you… Bucky dies on the train. Steve was married to the job first, so it seemed, and it was always his downfall.”

Don’t lose yourself in it.

That’s what he told you.

Don’t lose yourself in it. Not like he did.

“You knew about the soul stone?” Strange nods.

“The problem with being the person who is keeping time, is that I can look into futures, I can see what’s going to happen a million different ways, but in the end if I say anything about them then they won’t happen.” It’s not a risk he can take.

With Thanos.

With Tony.

With Steve.

Now with you.

“And Eric?” You shake your head. “He tricked me… the entire time, just…”

“Not entirely,” Strange started, “His wife did die during the blip, he was blipped away, but when everyone blipped back he sought revenge.”

“So he sought out Zemo… but Wanda didn’t find anything when she searched his mind.”

“It would be safe to say maybe they used some of the same techniques as they did with James on Eric, possibly blocking his memory and making him a little less susceptible to mental interrogation.” You look at him incredulously,

“You have an answer for everything.” He laughs,

“Not everything…”

“So where do we even go from here?” You ask. “What am I supposed to do?” He pats you on the shoulder and you stop yards away from where Bucky and Sam were training. Running an obstacle course in the grass. The warmth of the sun on your skin. Bucky meets your eye and winks before being tripped by Sam on the last leg. An endearing glare. A laugh between competitive friends.

“What are you supposed to do now that no one is giving you direction? That no one is making a path out in front of you?” A trail to follow. You look over at him and he gives you a knowing smirk that made you scoff.

“You make a path of your own.”


	20. twenty

Their names are Allan and Rosa. Your parents who were born, raised, and still live in Philadelphia. Your Mom always in a pair of scrubs and hair in a messy bun before messy buns were even a thing. Your Dad wore glasses and had a fully grey beard, his hair almost fully grey now with age. They taught you how to ride a bike, even though your Mom had been terrified. You remembered your Dad holding the bars over your shoulders and helping you down the street, your little heart beating so fast with excitement.

They taught you to read and write, cuddled under your Mom’s arm as she read you whatever you wanted her to read, pretty covers of books you couldn’t quite understand. Tales of dragons and elves, princesses and epic battles, books on romance. She’d read to you every day. In the hospital unconscious or in your childhood bedroom.

As you grew older and your health problems began to escalate. First heart, then the second. You started enjoying those little things more.

Sudoku with your Dad while he sat next to your hospital bed. Your Mom had a spin with needlepoint that the two of you attempted and your crude flowers sat framed in the living room to this day.

They were always there, all your band recitals, even though you were terrible at the violin. At every science fair. At every school function. They always showed up.

“You were our gift from God.” Your Mother had told you. “We knew you were meant to be ours the second we laid our eyes on you.”

They’d never been able to have children. That’s what they told you and Bucky when you’d gone to see them. They desperately wanted a child, and when they heard about you. How sickly you were. Their hearts broke.

“We thought we’d only have you for a short period of time.” Your Dad was emotional, dabbing his eyes. “We were fortunate enough to have you survive.” No one had wanted you. Not when they thought you were going to die.

“You were a frail thing.” Your Mother said, “You looked like you were at deaths door, but when I first saw you and you grabbed my hand so tightly… We knew you were a fighter. And we wanted to fight with you.” And they did. Every step of the way.

Every surgery.

Every new hope.

Every failure.

It was theirs too.

Not just yours.

And when you were a kid you resented them for it. They didn’t understand that you didn’t want to go outside. They didn’t understand that you didn’t want to get out of bed. You grumbled and groaned as your Mom rolled you out into the sun. The wheelchair after your surgery, she painted it a bunch of different colors and sat you in it in the back yard. The sun poking through the trees and warming your skin while she gardened, and you acted like it didn’t help.

They were always so unwaveringly optimistic. This next surgery would be the one that cures everything. This next surgery will be the one that sticks.

It wasn’t easy explaining them the situation. With Steve, Zemo. All of it and at the time, the less they knew the better. But it didn’t stop them from worrying. So it made sense that when it was all over, you spent a little time at home. A nice little break from the stress of the constant running. The looking over your shoulder.

You’d waited until your bruised face healed, until you were cleared by Bruce. Then you went home.

Your Mother cried when she saw you, Dad hadn’t gotten home from work yet. She gripped your cheeks and lay kisses on your face, pulling you into a tight hug before leading you inside.

The three of you ordered pizza from your favorite place. Cheese fries and soda. You talked to them about your biological parents. Who they were. What just happened to you. But trying to explain time travel seemed a little difficult.

“So… there’s more than one… universe?” Your Dad, trying to put the pieces together.

“Yes, but they’re all interconnected. Like… every decision is a fork in the road, so choosing ‘yes’ leads you down one path while choosing ‘no’ leads you down another and it infinitely splits off from there.” He nods before shaking his head.

“How long do you think you’ll be able to stay with us?” Your Mom asks.

“A week or two at least.” You pick at a fry, “Bucky is going to come get me whenever I’m ready to go.”

Bucky. They remember Bucky.

“The real brooding guy?” Your Dad asks. “He looks like he needs a drink.” You laugh,

“Yeah, that guy.”

You helped your Mom with her garden. You went to work with your Dad for an afternoon, taking money at the register of his barbershop. Grocery shopping was nice. Doing something so normal and mundane after a while. Getting apple cider donuts from the Amish market and browsing, picking out a good watermelon and barbecuing. Something you felt like you’d taken for granted for so long before.

“Hey, how are you?” You stepped inside, away from the noise of your cousin’s birthday party. A small backyard barbecue with just family, an iced sheet cake on the kitchen counter with candles waiting to be lit.

“I’m doing alright,” His voice, you hadn’t realized how much you missed it. “Sam is riding my ass about this paperwork, but it’s just about done. How are your parents?”

“They’re good.” You sigh, leaning against the wall. “They’re happy to have me back.”

“I’m sure.” There was silence for a beat,

“I miss you.” Both said at the same time. You laugh, “We spent so much time together in those last couple weeks… I thought this break would be nice, and it is, I love seeing my family and being here, but…”

“I wish you were here.” Who knew he’d be such a softie? You hum,

“You could always come down when you’re done with that paperwork.” You look out the sliding door to the back yard. “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind.” He lets out a chuckle.

“Maybe, I’ll think about it.” You tug your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Have you ever seen the liberty bell?” You can hear him shift on the other line, getting comfortable.

“Can’t say that I have.” You could hear the smile on his face.

“You should come see that at least,” You hear him hum, “Maybe get a cheesesteak, see a couple of museums.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad actually, I just might have to.” You pick at the polish on your nails.

“Wanda tells me that you’re having trouble sleeping.” A heavy sigh. “What’s going on?” Silence.

“I’ll be fine.” But you knew he wasn’t. Being back in the chair, going through that again, even if it was for a short period of time. I was setting him back.

“Have you talked to Tom about it?” His therapist. Another sigh, so no. “Bucky…”

“I know. I know… I’ll talk to him about it this week.” Your Mom steps through the sliding glass door with your Aunt.

“We’re about to do cake.” She says. Telling you to get off the phone without telling you to get off the phone. You nod.

“I’ve got to go, but please don’t forget to take care of yourself. Take a shower, talk to your therapist, and then come see me. Promise?” You can hear Bucky move on the other line.

“I promise.” A grin on your face.

He showed up the weekend after. Hair a little shaggy and beard unshaven he stepped out of his car and into your arms. The hug much needed, giving you a little rush of happiness. A comfort in it.

He looks so tired. Talking to your parents over dinner. Just exhausted. And you know he hasn’t been sleeping. If the bags under his eyes were anything to go by, he hadn’t slept much since you left a week ago.

“They like you.” You tell him later, sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room. “You don’t have to sleep in here,” You offer, “They won’t care if you slept in the same bed as me.” It’s not 1940 went unspoken but was there. He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ve been a little restless,” He admits, “I don’t want to wake you up.” You roll your eyes, standing and holding your hand out to him.

“Come on.”

Your bed was a full size. Not as big as the beds at the compound but just about the size you’d had when you were sleeping in the Hydra facility in Austria. Which means you’re snuggled up face to face, looking at each other in the dark.

“I think it would be good for us.” You reason, “I think we need some closure.” He stares at you for a moment,

“That’s what Tom said too.” You shrug, your hands clasped together. “I just don’t even know what I would say…”

“I don’t know either.” You whisper into his hands. “Steve was leading me this whole way and the focus had always been on him, but… I was Peggy’s kid too.” And she had to give you away too. She had to lose a child too. “I think this would be really good for me.” He nods against the pillow.

“Okay.”

“We can go?” He sighs, fingers brushing your cheek.

“Yeah, we can go.”

Steve was buried next to Peggy. With her until death and far after. He was a traditionalist after all. The flowers felt silly in your hands as you lay them on the two graves, lush with flowers of admirers… tourists. You throat so dry and your nerves getting the better of you.

This wasn’t the Peggy that was your Mother. This was a different Peggy from a different universe. But it didn’t erase what was in your DNA. Your biology. You feel a tie to her. In more ways than one. 

You’d done more research on her. Who she was. What she stood for. You talked to Sharon. Your cousin. She talked to you about how Peggy was really into female empowerment. She supported her when she wanted to join the CIA. She supported her through everything. And you wonder for a moment what it would have been like to grow up with Steve and Peggy as your parents. That legacy. If you’d lived long enough, would you have joined SHIELD? Would you have fought the same way they did? Against the injustice they saw in the world?

Yes, you think. You would have. Because even with a different hand dealt in life you still found your way back here. To this very moment.

“Hi, Mom.” It felt strange, talking to nothing, but it wasn’t really nothing was it? “I uh… I’ve been thinking about what I would want to say to you… how I would even… talk to you like I did with Dad and I know it probably wasn’t easy to let me go.” You swallowed roughly, tears already pooling in the corners of your eyes, “I know it wasn’t easy, but I just want to say thank you. I… I’m going to live a long and happy life here, where I might not have survived before. I found something that makes me truly happy, like I didn’t even know… that I was capable of any of that…

but I know it’s from you. Not just from Dad.” Your hands are shaking, and you wrap your arms around yourself. “I think that we kind of got lost in that a little bit. He’s Captain America, the golden boy… American hero that he is, no one even cared that I was your daughter… I just want to thank you for everything you’d done for me… and the person you let me become.”

It felt strange, talking to the grey stone. But relieving. Tension in your shoulders dissipating. There was also a slight emptiness, never being able to meet her. Never being able to talk to her. “I wish I could have at least talked to you,” A sigh, “At least once.”

But they’re always with you, right?

“Are you okay?” Bucky rubs your arms and you lean back into his chest, he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I think it’s your turn.” Your hand rubbing his forearm that lay across your chest. He stiffens slightly, you were sure he was anxious, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll give you some privacy.” You stepped away from him, holding his hand until you were too far out of reach, taking steps away from him to reach the car, leaning against the passenger door.

Bucky looked back at you, you giving him a little thumbs up and a soft smile. He sighs, turning back to look at the stones in front of him. Steve’s name carved out in the granite. He remembers being here before. Carrying the casket. Sore and upset. He remembers you sitting, not too far away. In a wheelchair, recovering from your surgery still, but there to pay your respects to the man who saved your life.

He remembers that day as being very difficult. His fists clenched and angry. Sam had been trying to calm him down all morning, but it had been hard. He couldn’t deal with the loss. He just couldn’t.

It feels like a lifetime ago now.

He swallows, “Steve…” He felt a little ridiculous. “I’m angry that you left me.” He lets out a deep breath. “I was angry… that you left me. I was angry that you left me and didn’t tell me the real reason why…” His fists were tight now. “I would have understood, if you had only told me… I wouldn’t have thought that you didn’t love me enough, I wouldn’t have thought that you didn’t care.

Steve, I… I loved you so much for so long that I didn’t see anything else ever happening. I always thought we would be together, as friends or not. It was hard for me to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t see it that way. It broke my heart to bury you. I didn’t think I had anything else and if it wasn’t for Sam I…” Maybe wouldn’t be here. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his thoughts.

“She’s incredible, Steve.” He could feel your eyes on his back, knowing you looked at him with worry. “She’s so intelligent and kind, she’s strong… I would have left you for her too.” A rough joke with a watery laugh, “It’s easier to say now, looking back that you made the right decision. But at the time it was almost impossible to reason… I just… I wanted to let you know that I love her.” He felt the tension melt from his shoulders, “And I’ll take care of her pal… Thank you for bringing her to me.” The granite felt warm from the sun as he rest his hand on the headstone. “Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me.”

He met you at the car, standing close, resting his hands on the roof of the car, caging you in. Your eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his mouth to yours. A soft and slow kiss. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his waist, the hug much needed. The emotional turmoil finally settling. A comfortable silence.

When you pull back, he looks down on you, a soft smile, red eyes.

“Are you ready?” You hum,

“To leave or to move on?” He shrugs,

“Both?” You return his smile.

“Let’s go.”

You couldn’t help but feel like, when you sunk into the passenger seat and let Bucky drive you away, that you were leaving that part behind you.

You hadn’t had another memory of Steve since actually sitting and talking to him, there was a little emptiness there that hadn’t been before, soothed over with the fact that you felt changed by this. Your hand was in Bucky’s, over the center console, his thumb running over your wrist. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it as you pulled out of the lot and onto the street.

“I think we need a vacation.” He sighs, his eyes a little red rimmed still from the emotional toll of the day. You nod,

“Where should we go?” A side smile,

“Wherever you wanna go baby.”


End file.
